The Last Outsider
by xxIAmTheSkyxx
Summary: It's been ages since I've seen him. Could've been weeks, maybe years...probably a decade. We used to be good friends, but fate and prejudice tore him away from me. That very same fate then forever sealed ours. When the two of us met again...neither of us would be walking away unscathed. Rated M for graphic violence/torture, sensitive themes, and harsh language.
1. Prologue: The First Clue

_Hey guys! Looks like I didn't vanish for a month, after all._

_Anyway, I just thought I'd throw this up, since focusing on one story is kinda screwing up my brain. Let me know what you think!_

**Prologue: The First Clue**

I ran down the familiar alley, finally free from the confines of the fortress. I had to stay away from them no matter what. They were not going to have a chance to corner me again. I couldn't let it happen. I pumped my legs harder, refusing to slow down. My breathing came short and fast, and I was starting to feel lightheaded.

But I didn't stop.

I could hear voices behind me, and I knew I was running out of time. The darkness of the night wouldn't work as an advantage to me here – those freaks could see in the dark as well as it was daytime. Fighting them off wasn't an option, either, since they had inhuman stamina and strength (and the darkness didn't help either). They would try and tire me out before finishing me, or capture me and torture me.

But I had one advantage they didn't – I knew the terrain. I couldn't see where I was going, but I still knew, since I had memorized the area down to the last rock. I knew where I was going, while my pursuers were only following wherever I went.

So all I had to do was lose them, and they wouldn't be able to find me. I ducked into a corner that I knew had the sewage system in the middle. I paused for just a moment so I could lift up the huge stone cover, grabbed the nearest convenient object (a broken radio) and threw it down the hole as hard as I could, which made an audible splash.

"I heard something over there!" one of the voices called out.

I heard rapid footsteps pounding on the asphalt, approaching my location ever so quickly. I started running again, my footsteps being drowned out by the sound of the splash, and picked up speed until I had enough momentum to vault over the far wall. I landed smoothly on the other side, sat on the rough gravel with my back to the wall, and – though my lungs felt like they were about to burst – held my breath so I wouldn't give away my position.

_Please take the bait_, I prayed. _Please take the bait._

The approaching steps grew louder until they were practically feet away from my place behind the wall. I kept holding my breath, trying not to panic as the footsteps slowed to a stop.

"That intruder isn't here," one of the voices said. It sounded like a boy, maybe nineteen or twenty. He sounded off-hand, as if he didn't really care if he found me or not.

"Down the sewer, maybe?" another suggested. This one – also a boy – sounded somewhat younger. "There's nowhere else to escape to around here. Maybe that was the splash."

"Couldn't hurt to check," a third decided. This one sounded the oldest – mid- to late twenties – and the same one who had noticed the splash. "I'll drop down and have a look. You two stay out here in case the infiltrator shows up again. The Boss is going to skin us alive if we don't bring this little uninvited guest the comeuppance he has prepared." I couldn't tell if he'd said that just for comparison's sake or if he'd actually meant it.

"Roger," the first two voices said in unison.

There was a _whoosh_ and a splash – one of them had dropped down the sewer. I'd hoped that all three would jump in, but I should've guessed I wouldn't be that lucky.

There was a moment of silence on the other side. My heart thumped harder, fearing that maybe they'd heard me. Then the older one spoke up.

"Geez, why do we have to be chasing after this person?" he muttered in annoyance. "It's not like they took anything. The old man is wound up too tight."

"He has every reason to be," the younger one reminded him. "He doesn't want anyone stealing our secrets, right? He doesn't want _him_ to be found, because he's got some sort of plan involving him."

My heart skipped a beat – _him_. Could it really be who I thought it was? What sort of plan were they talking about?

"I know that," the first one said. "Just wish he'd actually tell us what it is, because if it's not a good reason…I want him thrown out. Or even better – I want him discharged. He isn't like us. He's an Outsider."

If I wasn't holding my breath already, I would've gasped in shock at those words. An Outsider…I was sure now – it _was_ him. But wait, some of them didn't even _want_ him there? Why did they take him in the first place? And what did _discharged _mean? Judging from the way that boy had said it, I guessed that it probably wasn't a good thing.

"Yeah, but he's special," the second argued. "He's the last pure Outsider ever – the only survivor of that weird genocide. The Boss wouldn't like it if –"

"I don't give a flying fuck about what he would like," the first snapped. "I want him out. Of all the places to stick him in, he just had to put him..." He trailed off, apparently too disgusted to speak further.

"What are you talking about?"

The first one scoffed. "Screw it. It's none of your business."

"But...oh man, the Boss is going to have your head for saying that," the younger one noted nervously. "We're not allowed to speak against him, or –"

"Do I look like I care? I only decided to be Branded because I have my own agenda. I don't know or care about why anyone else bothered to join with that loon."

The silence seemed extra loud on the other side of the wall. My heart was pounding so hard I was afraid they would hear it and expose my location, but they did nothing.

The younger voice broke the silence with a quiet and flat, "We didn't have a choice."

The silence then roared even louder in my ears, so much that I thought it would pop. But suddenly the silence was broken again by clanging metal – the third one was coming back up.

My skin suddenly felt cold and clammy. Oh, no. He must've realized that I hadn't actually escaped through the sewage system. Now he'd be scouring this immediate area for me, and I wouldn't be able to get away from them. Not while I was winded like this.

"Did you find anything?" the first asked, completely disregarding his colleague's previous words.

"Nope. Just this broken radio." I heard a heavy object shatter against the asphalt, and I had to summon all my willpower in order not to flinch at the noise. "Our little intruder gave us the slip. You guys didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, either?" Brief silence. Then: "Great. The old man won't get out of my hair after this. For an ordinary human, whoever it was sure is slippery." He sounded irritated.

"No kidding." The youngest sounded somewhat upset – probably from what his companion had implied about their group. "It's not like _we're_ not human, though."

"We're just not the ordinary kind," the oldest agreed. "Being Branded has its ups and downs, I guess. Let's head back for now. I don't think that we'll have any more trouble with intrusions next time around. Plus I just really want to crash."

"Geez, you can't get anywhere without sleep," the first grumbled.

Their footsteps began receding, and once I was sure they were far enough away that they couldn't hear me and after what seemed like an eternity, I let out the breath I'd been holding in a loud gasp and tried to get oxygen back into my system. I relaxed every one of my muscles and slumped against the wall. That was way too close for comfort. I was safe for now.

Once the panic left me, I felt a surge of hope. Now I knew that I'd found the right place. He was there, in that huge fortress somewhere. It's been so long since I'd seen him – I had no idea how much time had passed, but it felt like it had been close to a decade.

He was so close…

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a worn bracelet made with colorful plastic beads. It was too small for me to wear, and the beads were irregularly arranged. But there was a part of the accessory that was completely perfect – the name spelled out in white letter beads that I could just barely read in the waning moonlight.

_Naminé._

I clasped the tiny bracelet tightly in my hand and held it against my chest.

"Don't worry, Roxas," I whispered. "I'll get you back, no matter what."

* * *

_Welp, hope you liked that. First chapter won't come for a while; just warning you right now. Okay, on another note. This story won't have author's notes at the beginning or end of a chapter unless I feel like it's necessary. I know; it's a first for me, huh? Ah well. _

_Thanks for reading._


	2. Obstacles

_Okay, a couple things before we dive into this chapter. First and foremost, there will be OC's in this story. For those of you who freak at even a hint of a mention of an OC, please hear me out. Thanks to the abundance of characters in KH, I don't need too many of them, so most will be just support/plot device characters. Only one will actually get any sort of development, and if you have read _Bittersweet Journey_ in its entirety, you'll find that you'll recognize him. *wink wink nudge nudge*_

_Secondly, like I mentioned in the prologue, these author's notes are going to take a backseat unless needed in this story. They're just taking up word count in my stories, so I won't do that anymore unless I need to. So there's that._

_Hmm…I guess that's all for now. Thank you for your time, and enjoy the first chapter of The Last Outsider!_

**Ch. 1: Obstacles**

That following morning had been absolute mayhem. The entire fortress had been buzzing about the intruder that had broken into the barracks and escaped that night– a human girl. Nothing had been taken, nothing had been vandalized, and no one was injured (though seriously, a human couldn't hurt anyone in this place if they tried). They'd sent a tracking company of three to chase her and bring her down, but she managed to escape completely – they'd lost her. Pretty amazing feat, really. Those guys were near impossible to get away from.

It was a story I probably wouldn't have heard unless I overheard it from some random visitors talking about it right outside my confinement zone (which was just fancy talk for jail). Someone had printed out a portrait of her and hung copies of it up around the vicinity like wanted posters, even offering a reward in order to catch her. They were all over the place, so even I managed to snag a copy. I hid it in my bunk whenever anyone passed by because the confinement zones were monitored periodically by an overseer. We were also forbidden any sort of information on the outside, so if an overseer happened to spot me with one of the posters, there'd be absolute mayhem (and painful consequences on my part). Only good thing about being stuck in a jail here was the fact that only certain personnel were allowed free access, and anyone else needed permission to get in (for whatever inconceivable business they have) so we weren't constantly harassed.

It was close to the evening now, so I had some time to myself. I pulled out the poster of the girl out from under my pillow and stared at it minutely under the dim fluorescent light hanging above my head. The girl was blonde, pale-skinned, and blue-eyed. She was wearing some sort of cloak, but it had apparently slipped off at some point and the security cameras had captured that image. She looked about my age, too –a little younger maybe, probably by a year or a couple, but close enough. She looked like she was holding tightly to something, since her right hand was clamped shut.

It was odd, but I felt like I should know this girl. She felt so familiar, but like the previous nights, I drew a blank. I just couldn't recognize her – and I definitely would've remembered meeting someone like her.

Then again, I didn't really remember much about _myself_ to begin with, so the chances of me knowing someone else from the past were pretty slim. I knew my name, and I knew I was different from everybody else here…but that was it. I had no idea where I had come from or how I got here – I just took living in these jails for granted. It was easy to lose track of time here – especially if you're kept behind bars nearly 24/7.

I suddenly heard footsteps outside the holding chamber, so I quickly shoved the poster underneath my pillow again. Like I mentioned earlier, we weren't allowed any sort of information from the outside – and it was mostly in the case of somebody possibly getting the idea to try and escape. But honestly I'd given that up a long time ago. It wasn't like I had anywhere to go after leaving. At least, not that I knew of.

But listening to those footsteps come closer, it made me glad that I had almost superhuman hearing. Maybe it came with being locked up in one place and messed with for so long, but I was extra sensitive to everything around me – sight, sound, touch, taste, smell. Hypersensitivity from isolation. I've heard of it happening to people, but I'd never dreamed that I'd be one of them.

The huge metal door screeched as it opened, making me want to claw at my ears – by God was that thing loud. But I didn't want to let them know that I could hear them; they'd only have one more means of leverage over me and they already had enough. I saw two people come in, and I realized that it was _that_ person visiting again.

I should probably explain what I mean here.

There was a guy here who was a soldier in this huge fortress – one of the few to reach the S Squadron (there were six ranks for the soldiers here but nothing like sergeant or commander – it was all decided by squadron. F was the lowest, and S was the highest. They did have an impromptu leader in each one though, and the S soldiers were always the leaders in the case of a mobilization). He came to visit this place a lot – much more often than any other soldier that I knew of. I knew he came to visit one of the people kept in here, in the cell to the left of mine – someone that had been thrown in there several years back. I didn't know the S soldier's name or the name of the person next to me since I have never seen his face before. I've talked with him though, a couple times through the wall separating us when no one else was around. He never told me either of their names, but that was fine with me – I didn't want to lose the only person kind enough to give me the time of day by being nosy. And besides, from the sound of his voice I could tell that he wasn't all that older than me (however old I was) and that was as far as I was willing to pry.

I swiftly flicked my gaze to the toes of my boots when the soldier passed by my cell, letting my blond bangs fall over my eyes to avoid having to look at his face. I'll have to admit – this soldier scared me. A lot. After the first couple times he visited I learned not to look at him whenever he came by, because he would flash me the coldest glare I'd ever seen on anyone's face, and the people around here in general weren't exactly the nice types. He hated me – that much was clear enough.

I just wondered why.

The first time I'd seen that glare, I'd seen pure wrath in his eyes that said plainly, _If _anything_ goes wrong in the world, it's your fault._ I didn't understand it now any more than that time years ago when he first showed up. All I knew that I was terrified of him, and I didn't want to see that look in his eyes again.

The other person was the one in charge of the cells. I didn't know his name either; not that it mattered, really. He scared me a lot too, but not in the same way as the soldier that just passed by. He was just so…so _calm_ about everything going on around him, like he spent his entire life learning how to take everything with a grain of salt. His stoic demeanor scared me even more than the X-shaped scar on his face, and I didn't really want to know how he'd acquired that, either. He was instated as the overseer only several months ago, after the last one was killed by one of the mentally unstable prisoners. No more trouble started up after he took up the post – even the crazy ones weren't crazy enough to defy this guy.

I heard a conversation going in the cell next to me, but I wasn't really listening in – the man in charge was standing in front of my bars and he was occupying my attention. The blankness in his dull yellow eyes unnerved me. He was observing me like I was an interesting rock he happened to pick up one day that he'd decided to take another look at.

"So," he murmured in that eerily calm voice of his as he knelt so that he was eye-to-eye with me. "How's our little specimen doing today?"

I bristled at the term. I didn't have an identity here thanks to the person in charge of this whole place. No one has called me by name for as long as I could remember so even I forgot to address myself by my own name sometimes. The people around me would give me these little labels, but never by my name. The only person who knew my name was the only person I've ever spoken to without any fear, and he never told anyone. Small nicknames I could handle with little trouble.

But being called something like that, like I was nothing more than an insignificant insect, pushed me over the edge infinitesimally. I know that I probably should've expected such treatment, but I still felt that no matter what they were doing with me, they should at least recognize that I'm a person. I felt my anger spike, and my eyes began to sting – that always happened when I got mad. I didn't know why since I never figured it out, but at the moment I didn't really care. I just wanted to lunge at him and rake those freaky eyes out of his sockets so that he'd stop looking at me that way. I clenched my fists to try and hold that rage back, but they shook at my efforts.

The man's gaze flicked to my face, then my fists. His expression didn't change, although I saw a spark of interest in those otherwise lifeless eyes.

"That never ceases to amaze me," he said, straightening. "How fascinating. We never see anything like you around anymore, for shame. If only your people had survived."

My anger instantly vanished at those words. What did he mean by that? Did he know something about me that I didn't? What about my temper was so fascinating to him in the first place?

He continued to speak in that apathetic voice, but that didn't explain any of his previous words. "If the rumors about you are true," he went on. I wish he'd start expressing _some_ sort of emotion by this point – _anything_. He was scaring me more than normal today. "Then if I should try this…"

The man reached into one of the pockets on his lab coat, and pulled out a small metallic object the size of his index finger. At first I had no idea what it was. But I realized too late – when his thumb moved to the top of the object and the flame sparked to life with a small _click_, I lost all rational thought and fell over myself pressing my back against the wall opposite the bars while pressing my hands, arms, whatever I could to my face to avoid seeing it and screaming.

"_NO!_" I screamed in feral terror, trying in vain to all but merge into the back wall and fall through it. "_Get it away; get that away from me! Get away from me! Make it go away!_" I scrabbled at my eyes, as if I were trying to gouge them out so I wouldn't have to see that horrible thing. "_I'll do anything, anything; just get it away, get it away!_" I slid to the floor, my knees about as strong as overcooked noodles in the fear consuming me. I could feel my skin getting damp from the sweat and tears as I tried in every possible way I could think of to shield myself. My voice soon trailed off into a whimper, exhaustion following the terror and my entire body going limp as a result. I was just mumbling to myself by this point. "Get it away…I don't want to burn…I don't want to burn…make it go away…please…I'll do anything…"

I wanted to protest some more, but my energy was quickly dwindling. My head was filled with images of buildings burning, trees burning, people burning alive…me burning alive. Flames were evil, mindless, destructive, painful. They hurt things, killed things, destroyed things. It would ravage anything and everything that got in its way – even me – and burn it all away until there was nothing left.

_Fire is evil._

After a couple moments that felt like several eternities, I heard another _click_ that indicated the lighter extinguishing the tiny flame. I didn't take any chances, though. I refused to look up – and even if I wanted to, my muscles weren't responding anyway. I just lay there crumpled against the wall. I was shivering so hard it felt like a convulsion, the horrifying images still tearing through my mind.

"You become more intriguing by the mere moment," I heard him say through the buzzing in my ears. He still had that maddeningly calm voice. "I've never heard anything of this sort happening to one such as you. Fearless, they were not. As shown with you."

I had neither the energy nor desire to respond to him. I still couldn't move. My body wouldn't stop trembling no many how many breaths I took. Despite all that I still couldn't get over the fact that he'd done that.

He knew that I was afraid of fire.

That bastard. How many other people in this damn fortress knew that? It was as if the man in charge stepped up to a podium in front of everyone and announced, _Hey! Our special prisoner is afraid of fire! You now have an easy way of tormenting him to your heart's content!_

I still couldn't bring myself to get angry, though. He'd made me waste unnecessary energy by turning on that stupid lighter.

"Hey, are you done?" another voice said irritably right outside my bars. "I've been ready to leave for ages." It took me a minute to realize that it was that S soldier. He must've finished his conversation with my neighbor.

The man paused a bit before answering him. "Of course," he said. "I've no more business with our little prize."

I was too tired to get riled up at him now. I was completely spent. I didn't think I'd get upset over anything by this point – but of course that soldier managed to come up with something that still managed to get to me.

"You should've brought a torch," he said carelessly. "A lighter isn't going to induce a heart attack."

In spite of my current condition, the rage decided to try and flare up anyway at those words. My muscles tensed against my will and I felt the stinging sensation in my eyes again, but it was extremely fleeting – I only felt it for a fraction of a second. My body didn't even have the strength to maintain that anger, and it dissipated quickly. Both of them were silent, though I heard a hiss coming from one of them. I didn't know who it was, and I didn't care. I just wanted them to leave me alone.

"Just…just what _is_ that freak?" I heard the soldier question in a half-scathing, half-disgusted tone.

My breathing slowed to more normal levels and my muscles finally started to wind down, but I still refused to raise my head. I was afraid that I'd get another headache, or that bastard would try that trick on me again, or the soldier would just glare at me with those awful eyes, or maybe even all three.

_Freak._

I would've scoffed if I'd had the wherewithal. That one wasn't anything new. I heard that one more than any other name they came up for me. Besides, I'd heard worse today.

"You know as well as I do. That is where we get our extracts for the ones to be Branded."

"Say what?!" the soldier exploded. This was the angriest I'd ever heard him. Not that it was by much, but still. "You mean to say that this – this _bastard's_ blood is mixed with mine?! Is this some kind of fucked up joke?!" Ooh, another one. _Bastard. _That was the second-most common nickname for me. Right behind _freak_. Two for two, Mr. Elite-Soldier. Two for two.

"Our business is done here," the other man said swiftly, still maintaining his calm. "Your time has expired. Come back next week."

"I'm not moving a damn muscle until you give me an explanation. I can wait all day if I have to."

"Was I not clear enough for you?" The man's voice was still unruffled, but there was a threatening undercurrent in the way he formed his words then, enunciating each syllable. "Come back next week."

Despite his previous words, I guessed that even the soldier had decided the man wasn't going to give in quite yet. Granted I knew how he felt on this – I didn't know what this guy meant either. I didn't remember them ever taking my blood, though that was probably just my screwed-up memory talking more than anything.

No further words were spoken; there was only shuffling of feet as the two of them headed for the exit. One set sounded a bit more rough – likely the soldier, since he hadn't wanted to leave in the first place. The man was probably dragging him out, and for once I was grateful – I just wanted to be left alone. The door creaked violently as it shut, and then it was completely silent. The only sources of light were the dim fluorescent ones flickering in each cell.

However, the silence was broken almost immediately.

"Hey. You okay?"

It was my neighbor. No doubt he'd heard my screams and the emotionless comments of my tormentor. I was actually pretty surprised that he cared – he'd never made a comment about me getting messed with before.

Thankfully, by this time my body had finally relaxed, thanks to the awful fire not being there torturing me. But I still felt pretty crappy. "No. I feel like shit." God, my voice sounded like a dying bullfrog. Pathetic.

"So, you're afraid of fire." It wasn't a question. Just a statement of fact.

_Well, no shit I'm afraid of fire. Do you think I scream at the sight of it just to jerk those bastards' chains?_

I didn't answer him. I guess he took my silence as a confirmation, since he kept talking.

"Don't listen to what they said," he went on. "They're just acting the way the guy in charge told them to."

Did I detect a note of bitterness in his voice? I wasn't sure, and I was going to ask him about it, but he elaborated almost immediately.

"He's not the same as he used to be," my neighbor continued sullenly. "He's changed ever since getting Branded. For the worse, too. And it's all my fault."

I sat up, but I didn't rise. I leaned against the cold metallic stone. "How is it your fault?" I asked without thinking.

"I'm the reason he's working in this hellhole in the first place," he muttered. "I'm only here as their leverage on him."

"Leverage?"

"They told him that if he doesn't comply, they'll kill me," he explained. He sounded as if he didn't really care either way, though. "He says that he's doing what he is to keep me alive, but that's a load of crap. He's only using the fact that he's Branded as an excuse to hurt people. Just so he can vent his frustration."

"And he still comes to talk to you?" I asked, baffled. "What, you think it's a façade?"

Brief shuffling. Then: "It has to be. He's not who I thought I knew anymore."

He didn't explain any further, but I wasn't sure I wanted to know any more than that. He'd never mentioned any of this stuff to me before, and I wondered why he chose to do it now. Okay, so those two obviously were related somehow…maybe friends? family? brothers? He never explained that part, but I didn't need that bit of information to know that those two were important to each other…at least, to some extent.

Besides, right now I had a much more pressing matter that I wanted to get off my chest.

"Um, do you mind if I ask you something?" I said hesitantly.

"As long as it's not about us." His voice was guarded.

"It's not," I assured him. "I just…what did that guy mean? About the extracts?"

I was pretty sure he'd know what was going on when I wasn't aware of it. How they took my blood without me knowing…I mean, he must've noticed _something_ out of the ordinary at some point, right?

"You mean you don't know?" he asked me, slight surprise in his voice.

I chuckled bitterly. "Sorry. I'm not too good with remembering things."

If only he knew…

What I mean by that is that I have these weird lapses in memory, like my memory is a movie reel and someone was cutting out small parts as it was running. I didn't know when that started happening, or why it was happening, or hell – _when_ it was happening, but what mattered was that it did. And it left me feeling _really_ disconnected from reality. It's not like when you go to bed one night and you forgot what you ate for breakfast the previous day. Whole days were blanked out in my mind. To say the least, it's a nuisance. At most it would probably pretty much break me.

I heard him sigh on the other side of the adjacent wall. "Well, if that's the case," he said resignedly, "then I guess it's best if I don't tell you."

"That bad, huh?"

"They don't actually draw your blood, because they don't need to. I'll tell you that much."

"But why're they doing it?" As soon as that question left my lips, even more rushed out. "Why do these people keep me here? What do they need my blood for? They keep calling me these weird names, and today that guy called me a 'specimen' and a 'prize'. I've been here for ages, and they never bothered explaining anything to me. Do you know why they keep doing that? Am I somebody essential to whatever they're doing? Do they – do you know something about me that I don't?"

He didn't answer me, and I was afraid that I'd overloaded him with all these questions, but after a long while he finally said, "Well, to put it in simple terms, I don't know who you are. But…I know _what_ you are."

"What?"

"It's why he hates you."

"He hates me because of what I am?" I was starting to feel dizzy. "So I – I never did anything to him?"

"Not as far as I know."

I was definitely feeling nauseous now. My heart clenched painfully and I had to work to get enough oxygen. I couldn't register at the time that I didn't question why he hated me for such a reason. "Can you tell me then?"

"Tell you what?"

"What I am." My throat was burning like the entrance to Satan's coal pit. What the hell was happening to me? This fit was coming out of nowhere!

"I would, but it seems like it's happening again," I heard him say, though his voice had way too much reverb for comfort. Just what was going on? "I'll tell you later so you'll actually remember."

I tried asking him what he meant, but then I was suddenly attacked by a vicious jab in my chest like an invisible knife was trying to puncture my lungs clear through, and the question ran away from me as unrelenting pain came to replace it. I scrabbled at my chest to get the knife out, to make the agony stop, but I found nothing. It got so bad I practically slammed my entire body against the hard floor to try and numb it, but that didn't work. I was nothing short of petrified by this pain. What was happening to me?

Right then an invisible ton of force slammed into my ribcage, and it forced out a cough that damn near tore my throat open. I pulled my hand away from my mouth and my eyes were met with huge, wet globules of black clinging to the sensitive skin. It was burning my palm; it was burning; it was burning…

Like fire.

No…no…I couldn't – I couldn't take this.

_It's happening again._

_What?_

_What's happening to me?_

_It's burning; it burns…_

_Too much._

_Block it out._

_Bury it._

I blacked out.

* * *

_That son of a bitch_, he thought furiously. _That fucking son of a bitch._

He slammed his fist against the frame of his metal bunk in frustration. What the hell was _up_ with that guy? He was so calm about everything, so fucking emotionless that he deserved a punch in the face or a bullet in the groin. He deserved to have his hair ripped out and shoved down his throat, if only to have him choke for mercy.

He had wanted an explanation! And that bastard had the gall to say in his face, _Come back next week._ Like he owned the damn place! God, he hated that guy so much!

He was lucky he had this barrack all to himself (perk of being an S-class soldier), or else people would be looking at him like he was crazy as he was basically throwing a fit on his bed. Granted, no one could really do him much harm here – except maybe that one traitor who defected to the higher power, or Xehanort, Sir High-And-Mighty himself.

But he didn't care about them. He couldn't care less about what that old geezer was planning. He cared that his pride had been insulted by that too-stoic scientist. And he cared that his brother was locked in the same room as that freak of nature, let alone right next to each other. Maybe they were doing that to personally insult him, knowing about how much he hated him. Whatever the reason, Lady Luck was just never on his side.

Not even _beginning_ to mention how that conversation had gone.

_He entered the cell and closed the door behind him. "Hey," he said in greeting._

_His brother refused to look at him from his spot on the cot. He was staring down at his bare feet, his scratched and dirty arms resting on his thighs. His thin gray cotton shirt was frayed and faded, and there were tear holes in a couple places. His dark jeans were stained, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what those brownish splotches were._

"_Geez, I visit you for the first time in two weeks and this is the treatment I get," he sighed._

_His brother still refused to look up. "What are you doing here?"_

_He scoffed. "That's a stupid question if I ever heard one," he said._

"_Oh, so I guess you have an answer?" came the derisive reply._

"_I came to see how you were doing. Isn't that obvious?"_

"_No," his brother answered despondently. "It's not."_

_He sighed irritably. "Man, what is _wrong_ with you?"_

"_Everything you're doing."_

_That pulled him up short. "Say what?"_

"_You wanted to know what was wrong with me," his brother answered, his voice thick with sarcasm, "and I just told you. Everything you're doing is what's wrong with me."_

"_What's that supposed to mean?"_

"_I tell you the same thing every time you visit, and you still don't understand. That's how bad it's gotten." His brother stared at the adjacent wall, still refusing to meet his eyes. "Do you ever stop to think about what you're doing? How you're affecting anyone who gets involved in your little 'missions'? What you're doing to yourself? What you're doing to me?"_

_He felt his eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I don't do anything to you."_

"_You're wrong. You torture me every day." His brother's voice shook with emotion. "Every. Fucking. _Day_."_

_This was _not_ how he had planned this conversation to go. "You're not making any sense. I'm doing all this so I can _protect_ you. How in hell am I hurting you?"_

"_By hurting everyone else that _isn't_ me," his brother shot back, his hands clenching into fists. "Every time you hurt somebody else, you're hurting me!"_

"_What –"_

_He was suddenly cut off by the screaming. His eyes immediately flicked to the wall at his left, knowing that the one letting out the scream was behind it. The little freak sounded downright terrified, but rightly so. The overseer must've brought out his little lighter just to see this reaction. It was annoying having to face the prospect of talking over the screaming, but here his brother changed the subject._

"_Hear that?" his brother said flatly, which seemed rather unnecessary. "That's how I feel inside. Every day. Only instead of being scared…" He finally deigned to flash his sharp blue eyes at him. They were filled with disappointment. "I'm just frustrated."_

_He probably should have properly taken into account the accusing glare in his brother's eyes, but his previous words had pushed him over the edge. "You're comparing yourself to…to _that_?!" he exclaimed. "What the hell is wrong with you?"_

"_What's wrong with what?" He could tell that his brother was rapidly losing his temper. "Comparing myself to him? Why is that wrong? _How_ is that wrong? Is it gonna hurt me, tear me apart, rip out my lungs and feed it to the wolves if I put myself in the same sentence as him?" He chuckled without humor. "Did you know that he's hurting even more than me right now? He's being torn up on the inside, and he doesn't even know it. You're not helping matters at all."_

_These words hit him like a sledgehammer. That freak could _feel_? He was hurting? His brother's comment sounded so ridiculously blown out of proportion he almost wanted to laugh. Things like _him_ had no hearts. They had no feelings. They had no qualms about committing any kind of sin. They were the reason that his lover was gone and his brother was abducted and tortured. They weren't like normal people. They were all the same – heartless, vicious monsters that only existed to ruin people's lives._

_His brother was actually _stickingup_ for one of those said monsters. This was a sure sign that they'd indeed left his brother here with that thing on purpose._

"_I'm supposed to believe that?" he said incredulously. "You know as well as I do what he is! They're the ones that –"_

"_I know!" his brother snapped. "I'm not stupid! He might be one of them, but he's not the one who killed her! He probably wasn't even alive then; either that or he was too young to do anything!" He shot to his feet and advanced on him threateningly. "Why do you keep looking at him like he's the murderer, huh? He didn't do anything wrong! He doesn't even know why he's stuck here! He doesn't know anything about _himself, _he still has no clue why exactly you hate him so damn much, and you still look at him that way! I've only been here a couple years and I can already tell all that whereas you still treat him like he's the fucking plague!"_

_He was so shocked, so angry, so upside-down confused that he couldn't speak. His brother had changed – he hadn't ever defended that freak in this way before. Hell, at first he hated being trapped next to the kid. Why was he suddenly taking the other side?_

"_What happened to you?" he asked in disbelief. "Why're you defending –"_

"_Gee, I have no idea. Maybe something _did_ happen to me," his brother interrupted, his next words overflowing with venom. "And you know something; it's probably for the better in my opinion. It's you that needs to change." By this point the venom was gone, but his furious expression remained the same. "And if you were about to say 'monster', then I have something to say to you. The only monster I see right now" – he jabbed his index finger at his chest – "is _you_."_

_He recoiled involuntarily. He couldn't believe his brother was saying all this. It hurt – it hurt so badly that it warranted him saying his brother's name out loud._

"_Ryusei…" he breathed, half in shock._

"_We're done here," Ryusei told him shortly, turning his back to him. "Get out."_

"_Y-you can't be serious –"_

"_I said," he cut him off coldly, "we're _done_. Get out, Sora."_

Now Ryusei wasn't going to want to see him again. He wanted to hit himself. Why was he acting like that all of a sudden? That weird kid must've been tricking his brother into sympathizing with him, right? They weren't above manipulation. That's how he'd lost _her_.

Sora wasn't afraid of admitting that he'd actually been elated that that entire race had been eradicated all those years back, no matter the reason or method. They'd deserved nothing less for ruining countless people's lives. For ruining _his _life.

So that kid was the only survivor. So what? He was just one. It would be easy to get rid of him permanently. Only problem was that if he made any move against him, the consequences wouldn't be pretty, and he wasn't willing to risk it – until now, anyway. And besides, he figured, it didn't really matter what happened to him at this point. Since his only family had decided to sympathize with the enemy, what was the point of sticking around anymore? He'd lost all reliable allies now, and it would make no difference if he went on this suicide mission.

_He's your brother_, a voice in his head said suddenly. _Sympathizer or not, he's still family._

He cursed under his breath. Stupid conscience, always kicking in at the worst times. Okay, yeah, his brother was now friendly with his fellow prisoner, and there was not much he could do about it. Killing him wouldn't really fix anything between them. If anything, it would just make things worse.

_The only monster I see right now is you._

He exhaled sharply. His gaze flickered to his left jacket sleeve, which had shifted down slightly from the force of the punch. Right under the hem of the sleeve he saw the distinct red mark. He pulled the rough grayish fabric up all the way to stare at the X-shaped insignia on his forearm.

The Brand.

This was the sign that showed that he'd sworn into Xehanort's cause. He wanted to laugh at the irony – he wasn't sworn to anyone's cause. They'd injected him with the Extrarium in order to emblazon this shape into his skin and gift him with superhuman abilities with the condition that he work for Xehanort, but that was as far as he was willing to take that idea. Just because he bore this sigil didn't mean that he was actually allied with that crazy old man. The truth was that most of the people here were Branded against their will – because they'd been forcefully drafted, enlisted, and kept at his whim. They followed him not out of admiration, but fear of being discharged. Or killed, in simpler terms. Whichever worked.

He'd been one of the very few who had done this by their own choice.

That's not to say that Sora didn't have his own plans for being Branded. Oh, that man had _no_ idea what was coming to him. He thought that he had leverage over him? No, screw that – he was going to make Xehanort rue the day that he'd meddled in his life and decided to hold his brother hostage.

Nobody knew what Xehanort (or 'the Boss', as his fellow soldiers called him) was actually planning to do with that kid, or why he was forcing all these young men to fight for whatever his twisted cause was. They just didn't want to die painfully. Those cowards.

If he was being honest with himself, he didn't really care if whatever Xehanort was planning came to fruition or not. He just wanted to have his brother back, leave this country, and live on the other side of the planet, no matter how difficult doing that was going to be. Killing the old man would be a nice bonus, though.

And if having him back meant taking lives, then he would do what he had to do. He didn't care what Ryusei thought. He would do anything to keep him alive.

Anything.

The 'X' on his forearm suddenly flared up with pain, and he had to bite his lip to avoid cursing. The mark was hurting…which meant that he was being called for another mission. What the hell; it was supposed to be his off day! This was the fourth time this happened this past month!

It was even worse because he'd been especially looking forward to this vacation ever since that stupid tracking mission in order to hunt down the girl who had broken in several nights ago. He'd been stuck with two other soldiers from the same squadron as him, and of course they had to be the two people that annoyed him most – Axel, the lethargic redhead soldier who was several years his senior, and the very incarnation of the word _irritating_ in the form of Tidus. Obviously that had contributed to his somewhat sour mood then.

That girl had just had the absolute worst timing.

He groaned in irritation and heaved himself off of his bunk, his boots hitting the hard floor with a uniform _clump_. The old man got annoying when he got upset, and being late was one trigger. He didn't want to deal with that after what happened today.

"One of these days," he muttered as he strode to the door, "I swear I'm gonna enjoy ripping his fucking head off."

* * *

_I couldn't breathe. So cold, so dark, so heavy. Water pressing down on my chest. I flailed my arms, my legs, if only to find some purchase. I found none._

_My pain escalated into panic. Drawing breath would only choke me. I reached out, hoping to grab something, not expecting to find anything._

_Then something grabbed my hand. It clamped around my wrist like a vice grip and yanked me up. All of a sudden the pressure was gone. I could breathe again. I coughed all the water out of my lungs and shivered uncontrollably, still in shock. I was sitting on the damp earth that was the riverbank._

_I could barely process what happened until my rescuer spoke._

"_Are you okay?"_

_I turned my head, and I was met the bluest set of eyes I had ever seen._

"Naminé? Naminé, wake up!"

I gasped and bolted upright. My hand automatically went to my throat, my half-formed thoughts still telling me that I was drowning. It took me a minute to realize that I was in my bed. The morning sun was shining through my window. I was dry. Not drowning. I was okay. I exhaled in relief, my hand moving down to my chest as my nerves relaxed.

"Thanks, Riku," I said, looking up to the person who was gripping my shoulder. "Sorry. I'm okay now."

He sighed as he released his hold on me and straightened up. "You had that dream again, didn't you?" he asked. "Where you nearly drowned in the border river?"

I looked down at my mauve blanket. Riku had always been good at reading people. He'd had a lot of practice while living with me for the past several years, so I didn't need to give an answer for him to know the answer to his question. My expression probably told him everything.

"Those nightmares are really getting out of hand, Naminé," he warned me. "You need to try and relax."

"I'm sorry," I said again, my fingers wrinkling my blanket. "It's just…he's so _close_. After all this time…I finally know where he is. I can finally return the favor."

"I know," Riku said resignedly, pulling over a nearby stool and perching on the edge. "You finally know where he is, and you want to save him. But we can't go rushing into the fortress like that. Like several nights ago, when you were almost caught. We can't risk it."

He picked up the tiny bracelet that I kept hung on the lamp on my bedside table and fingered it for a little while. That bracelet was something Roxas had made for me in the short time I knew him, back when we were kids and he'd saved me from drowning. Even back then it hadn't fit me – it was more like an oversized ring than a bracelet – but I still kept it with me wherever I went. He hadn't meant to make it this small, but it had been his first time making one after I showed him how, and he'd tried spelling out my name with the tiny letter beads.

_How_ _do you spell your name? _he'd asked me after countless failures. After I told him, he strung my name correctly and handed it to me.

_It's not pretty,_ he'd said bashfully, _but I did my best._

I'd known that, and so had appreciated his efforts at trying to make me a present, even though it had turned out shoddy in everyone else's eyes.

Riku opened my palm and placed the bracelet there.

"There's no point in saving him if you're not going to be there to see him," he went on. "So next time, let's think of a plan before somebody decides to go storming their stronghold on her own."

I raised my hand to stare at the tiny accessory. I hated to admit it, but Riku was right. Running off to that fortress on my own hadn't done us any favors. They'd put a bounty on my head ever since that night, so I couldn't dance around in public unless I wanted to get hauled into their custody.

"I just can't help it," I finally confessed, rearranging the beads so that it read properly. "I'm so worried about him and what they're doing to him there…I feel restless just sitting around. It's been nearly _ten years_, Riku. I can't even imagine…"

Riku placed a hand on my shoulder again, this time reassuringly. "Well, if what you heard from those Branded soldiers is anything to judge by, he's at least still alive. I don't think that Xehanort would kill him so easily."

I nodded slowly. I knew that, too. I just didn't understand the reasoning behind it. He was an Outsider; that much I knew. Just…what was so special about _him? _Weren't they all the same? Granted, I didn't know too much about the Outsiders, before and after the mysterious incident that had wiped them out all those years ago. Roxas had been the only survivor, so there was one reason. But what other reasons were there?

"I know that, but…is it because of that genocide?" I finally asked, my voice hollow. "It's because he was the only one who wasn't killed, right? That's why Xehanort came looking for him? He wants to find out how he survived?"

Riku leaned back, a stormy expression clouding his cyan eyes. "Partially. He's also using him as the source of the Extrarium."

I frowned. "Extrarium?" I echoed in confusion. "What – what's that?"

Probably a weird question to ask someone like Riku, who shouldn't know anything about the goings-on in that cursed castle. But the benefit was that Riku was an ex-soldier from the fortress ages ago – until shortly after Xehanort came into power. He wouldn't share too much of his experiences, but I knew that he'd left because since he'd been enlisted into the armed forces of this country before they started turning out enhanced super soldiers, he wasn't obligated into staying there – so he was never Branded. The act of Branding disgusting him had also been a huge factor, and what he'd seen had definitely scarred him.

"It's how Xehanort is Branding all those soldiers," he answered me. "They're using his cells to basically create super soldiers that act on his whim."

I felt my eyes widen in horror. So _that_ was how they were coming about? "But…but that's…"

"From what I know – and it isn't much – the process in and of itself isn't detrimental to his physical health. But…" Riku's face grew even darker, as if an unpleasant thought just came to him. "…I'm not so sure about the other part."

Learning that little bit of information just made me even more anxious. Whatever Xehanort was doing to him wasn't hurting him physically, but that meant… "How bad is it?" I asked, my voice tinged with desperation.

Riku heaved a sigh and closed his eyes briefly. "I'm not so sure I should tell you."

"Why not? Do you think I can't handle it?"

I could hear the challenge in my own voice, yet he still wouldn't say anything. But I could tell everything from his face. His expression was guarded, and his eyes were hard. He didn't think I would be able to take whatever kind of information he was currently holding back.

"Riku, please," I pleaded. "I've got to know. Nothing compares to being separated from him like this. How bad is it?"

It took him a couple minutes, but he finally spoke. "It's nothing too devastating on the surface," he said heavily. "He's most likely not insane, if that's what you're thinking. But…"

"But what?" I pressed.

I didn't know what my expression looked at that moment, but Riku's calm façade crumbled beneath it. I didn't know what kind of explanation I was expecting.

But it certainly hadn't been what came out of his lips then.

"There's no easy way to tell you this, Naminé, but…Roxas, he…probably has no clue who you are anymore."

* * *

_Ick…so much cursing. *sigh* Well, given the situation and characters, you're gonna see a lot of that. Rating's not there for no reason. And obviously it won't be the only one._

_Anywho, you've met two new narrators today! Namin__é and Roxas are the two main characters, so they'll be in first person. Anyone else will be in third person. Just a heads-up._

_On another note, Riku showed up surprisingly early on. I was planning on his appearing later, but…eh, this will do._

_Hope you enjoyed reading this one! I sure had fun writing it! :D Now, time to get back to TOSOY! *runs off*_


	3. Resolve

**Ch. 2: Resolve**

It was silent on the opposite side of the wall.

_Huh…he's not awake yet,_ he thought to himself, sitting up on his rickety cot. _It must've been pretty bad that time._

It had been about several hours or so (as near as he could figure) since the Outsider's coughing episode. He'd been mentally preparing himself for that time, so he could explain to him what was going on with him. But he'd braced himself for the inevitable conversation only to find that he had yet to awaken from his coma.

_How long has it been like this? _he wondered absent-mindedly, staring at the stone floor. _He's been doing that ever since I got here…_

That Outsider – no, he had to stop that. Roxas had never been exactly healthy, judging from what he'd seen and heard – but was this condition something that was natural? He doubted it somehow – this condition was way too convenient for their captors to be something that he'd originally come with. They used whatever this guy coughed up from his insides to prepare those injections – those cursed things that had turned his brother into something that completely went against nature. This could've been going on for ages, and if Roxas had been locked in here for that entire time…

Ryusei blinked to himself a couple times. _I'm actually worried about him, _he noted with surprise. That was odd…he'd never dreamed of this happening. When he was first thrown in here, he'd known that it had been a deliberate choice to put them next to each other, to put him next to the _thing_ that was the same as the captors of his brother's lover. It had been infuriating, uncomfortable, disgusting, and just plain _wrong_…

At least, until Roxas started talking.

Granted, Ryusei hadn't spoken back at first – he'd still mostly been trying to get over the fact that someone like _him_ had actually had the nerve to speak to him. But although he gave no response, he did listen to what he had to say despite himself. And the more he listened, the more uncomfortable he got. Just how much longer was this guy going to talk about such insignificant things?

This Roxas person was nothing like the stories he'd heard of the Outsiders as a child – kidnapping innocent civilians, killing indiscriminately, thieving and vandalizing, all outright vagabonds and heartless creatures with no souls. Roxas was different. He _did _have a soul, although it had taken a little time for Ryusei to notice it.

One time, after about a year in confinement, Ryusei's patience with him had run out.

_Why won't you ever stop talking? _he'd snapped at him. _Who do you think you are to talk to me like that anyway?_

His response to this question had only been silence.

_I don't know, _Roxas had said after a long pause. _I don't know too much about myself…just my name. I've been here for as long as I can remember, though that really isn't saying a lot…_ He'd sounded contrite, much to Ryusei's shock. _I'm sorry if I was bothering you; I was just…I've never had the chance to talk with anyone like this before._

_What? _At this point, Ryusei's curiosity had won over the ever-present animosity. _What do you mean?_

_Everyone here treats me like I'm some kind of animal, _he'd continued. _And I don't understand why…they keep looking at me like I did something bad to them, and when they talk, they always say these awful things to me and about me. _His voice had turned somewhat bitter then. _I just don't get it. What did I do to make them act like that? How can I make it so that they'll stop doing all this? I don't understand. I just – I just hate it so much…_

That had been the moment that the realization had hit. Roxas was completely clueless – but not in the thick-headed-numbskull way. He literally had _no _clue. He didn't know who he was, he didn't know why he'd been captured, didn't know when it had happened, didn't know _anything_. He was receiving all this hate, and he had no idea why.

What a twisted and confusing life he must have led since then…and still did now.

_Oh…_ That was all Ryusei had managed to muster as a response.

_Yeah…but it's okay. I'm glad you took the time to listen to me anyway. I honestly didn't think I'd get a response from you of all people…because of that one person that comes to visit you, I thought you'd completely shut me out for sure._

His mind had immediately gone to Sora when that had been mentioned.

_He scares me, _Roxas'd said in a shaking voice. _He makes me really nervous…he always looks like he wants to kill me…I wouldn't mind so much if I actually knew what I did wrong, but he – _He broke off, and it was a moment before he found his voice again. _He's…so scary…I'm afraid to ask…_

Ryusei's heart had practically skipped a beat at that. He was _scared_? Such a human emotion…this Outsider actually felt that? Scared? Nervous? That shouldn't have been possible; there was no way…

But he should've known better. Nothing was impossible. There was no such thing as a world of absolutes. And in such an unpredictable world like this…it shouldn't have been out of the ordinary to see that Outsiders _did_ feel something. Even if it was just one of many.

Why couldn't Sora see it, too? No matter how many times Ryusei had tried to convince him otherwise since that point-turning conversation, it had all been for nothing. Sora was just too caught up in the past for any reforming of thought.

_Don't talk to him,_ he'd said harshly. _He's one of them. Sooner or later, he'll turn your back on you, too._

_You're not listening to me, _Ryusei had said, feeling frustrated. _He's not like the rest of them. And besides, you're not even giving him a chance._

_They never gave her a chance, either, _Sora had countered, his voice completely flat. _Why should I give him something he doesn't deserve?_

Because it wasn't him, he'd wanted to say then. He wasn't the one that took her away from you. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. Until three days ago, anyway. He couldn't explain to himself why he'd said it so forthrightly then – the emotions had just spilled and he'd snapped.

Ryusei balled his rough hands into fists. He couldn't believe how ironic this entire situation was. Sora was turning into the very monster that he despised, and he didn't even notice it? Even after he'd said that to him, right into his face that he was turning into a monster – he could tell that Sora hadn't fully comprehended the meaning behind those words.

Oh, he'd definitely been shocked, of course. Definitely angry, and maybe even a little confused, too. But there had been no guilt. No trace of it. Just hurt and betrayal.

_How could you have turned against me? _his eyes had seemed to say.

_I didn't turn against you. _He gritted his teeth. _You turned against yourself. What you've become…was never supposed to be you._

Right then his left shoulder flared with pain, as if somebody had stabbed an invisible hot knife through it. He grasped it and hissed in pain, doing everything in his power to avoid screaming.

_This isn't real, _he reminded himself. _This isn't real. No one's stabbing you, Ryusei…get a grip, get a grip!_

This was unreal…these phantom pains never got this bad before. A couple stings and aches here and there, a burning sensation once or twice that lingered for several minutes upwards to several hours before fading away, but this…this pain wouldn't go away. It lessened a little, but it still felt as if that same hot knife was buried in his shoulder. The rest of his arm felt tingly and numb. He was losing feeling in his left arm. He could barely feel his hand gripping it anymore.

Oh, God; what the hell was going on? This couldn't be normal, even in his case! He couldn't stand this pain! Where was the knife; he had to get it out!

_No, this isn't real! _he scolded himself over and over as he tried to control his breathing. _This isn't real; it's not really happening to you. There's no knife; there's no blood; there's no injury! Get a hold of yourself, Ryusei…get a hold of yourself, damn it!_

It took a minute, but Ryusei finally managed to stop gasping, and he gritted his teeth to keep the whimpers at bay. He tried to reassess the situation as his breathing slowed. He could barely feel his fingers; his left arm was almost dead. No, he corrected himself – it only _felt_ like it was almost dead.

That brief window of reprieve was completely broken when he felt hot, searing pain suddenly lance through his right eye socket several times over, until all he could feel was the agony of fire. It felt like someone was stabbing hot needles into his eye.

This time he couldn't hold back the scream.

No matter how often he told himself over and over that this agony wasn't real, it didn't erase the fact that he _felt_ it. It _felt_ like it was real, even though it wasn't. And trick of the mind or not, he couldn't ignore it. If anything, he would probably die from shock at this imaginary pain than any physical injury.

He had clamped his working hand over the eye in a fruitless bid to curb the agony. He felt the tension in his grip, which meant he was likely close to crushing his eye for real or just raking his rough fingernails through his pallid skin, though the numbness around his eye was enough that he couldn't feel the actual pain. That tiny tickle couldn't even _begin_ to compare.

Ryusei struggled to breathe properly as the initial shock of the pain passed. That first shock was always the worst; it was always the most painful in all senses of the term. As his gasps slowed to short, stuttering breaths, his murky thoughts struggled to the source of all this torture.

These phantom pains had come back. If this feeling had returned, that meant…

Immediately his anger and panic spiked as he finally organized his thoughts. This kind of pain could only mean one thing.

"Those fucking bastards," he wheezed. "What the hell did they force you into doing now, Sora?!"

* * *

Saïx watched as the young S-soldier entered the room and slammed the door closed behind him. His expression was one of irritation and – once he caught his eye – complete loathing.

He had to keep himself from smiling. This was too easy. Such a short fuse, and easily flammable to boot. He couldn't have asked for a better chess piece. Temper like that was easy to control, especially in his case. It was just lucky that this one had managed to get himself in the S-class upon enlistment.

"I thought I was on vacation, old man," the young soldier snapped at the figure seated before him. "What the hell do you want this time?"

"Now, now; youngster," the elderly man in question spoke up, resting his chin on his hand. "There's no need to shout. It's just a simple errand."

Saïx snuck a sideways glance at the man seated to his right. For such an elderly figure, he was rather good-postured. That smirk upon his tanned face, his amber eyes glinting with amusement, long coat draping over either side of the marble throne…

That man was getting too old for his position. He was even completely bald.

_Someday soon,_ he thought. _I will be the one sitting upon that throne._

"Seems like you've got some of these so-called _errands _under your sleeve just so you can toss them at me," the soldier retorted then with his arms crossed. "You've got plenty of other pawns; let me take my break."

Xehanort's smirk grew ever more pronounced. "Such spirit!" he said in his low droning voice. "You speak the truth, yes. I do have many others I have at my disposal. But _you_, young man" – he raised his hand off the armrest to indicate him – "you are the only soldier at the moment who can accomplish this…_particular_task."

"That's complete horse shit and you know it," the S-soldier scoffed. "You send me on these pointless missions that any one of your stupid puppets could do. What makes this one any different?"

Saïx cut in before the S-soldier crossed the line and needed to be detained. He couldn't have that happen now; the current situation was as delicate as it was. It was imperative that this pawn of his did his part.

_I have to keep up the appearance of the overseer,_he thought. _The time is not yet ripe. This boy hasn't failed in any mission as of yet, setting aside that tracking mission. He cannot refuse this._

_Yet…why are we sending this soldier on a mission at all? It's completely redundant._

"An enemy is advancing," he informed the soldier aloud, ignoring the look of pure hatred in his eyes as he swung his head around to face him. "We don't know who it might be, but he or she is likely a member of the Departure rebel group. We can't take any chances of an uprising on our hands. We need you to dispose of this threat. Dead or alive; it doesn't matter which."

"An assassination, then."

"That's correct."

The soldier raised an eyebrow suspiciously, a hard look in those icy blue eyes. "And…I'm the only one who can accomplish this mission, _because_…?"

"You'll notice when you get there."

"Get _where_?"

Saïx dug into one of his pockets and fished out a square-folded sheet of paper. He tossed it at the soldier, who caught it effortlessly.

"Use that map," he said as the young man unfolded it. "You'll have the location of where this person was last spotted. You are not permitted to return to the castle until you succeed."

The soldier made a face as he crumpled the paper in a fist after reading the name of the location. "…Fine; whatever. I just want to get this over with. I want some rest, goddamn it."

The soldier marched out of the room, punching the mahogany wooden door open as he left without a backward glance. Saïx walked to the gaping door and shut it silently before looking back to Xehanort.

"Sir, I have a question," Saïx inquired.

"What is it, Saïx?"

"Pardon my rudeness for this, sir," he went on, "but was this set-up assignment really necessary? We have other means of accomplishing –"

"Quite right, you are." The elderly man rose from his seat and strode to one of the open window to the outside that showed the vast expanse of Bellone that he called his domain spread out below him. Saïx flanked his left side as he too stared down at the landscape. All the specks of civilization were scattered here and there as tiny as patchwork quilt patterns. There were the Ranges of Ansem, the mountain range named for the founder of this country, to the north that also acted as their northern border. The jungle that none had bothered to name lay in the direct eastern side of this castle, and it stretched down south. And of course, the sea was their natural southwestern border. These natural barriers surrounded the civilization nestled within, in any location that was hospitable.

None of those locations could be described as a place for a scenic stroll. Nature was effectively their border patrol. This nation was nigh untouchable.

So why all these militaristic endeavors?

Xehanort continued staring down over his land as he continued to answer his previous query. "But we mustn't be too careless. That boy is more observant than we give him credit for. If we deliberately tortured him, he would suspect something is amiss."

_He likely suspects something is amiss already, _Saïx thought to himself.

"Oh, I'm sure he's noticed something strange by now," Xehanort went on, as if he had read his subordinate's thoughts. "But he needs to be closely watched. He could likely break away…no, he definitely would."

"Despite the fact that…his brother is in confinement, sir?" Not that he had any problem with that; in fact he was grateful for it. It made his goals all the easier to obtain. He just didn't understand why Xehanort would pull a move like so.

The old man allowed himself a low, guttural chuckle. "Ah, yes. Those two boys…truly marvels of nature, they are. Their relationship runs deep, yes…much deeper than any other. It is very curious how it is…only the younger that suffers for it."

Saïx caught that piece of information and filed it away for later purposes. "'Suffers' for what, sir?" he asked slowly, being careful to show no emotion.

The elderly man waved it away. "It is of little importance. It is just imperative that that young soldier does not discover this secret. Am I clear?"

Saïx couldn't comprehend the reasoning behind this. Those brothers shared some kind of unique bond…that only the younger suffered for? He didn't understand, but that didn't matter. That was just another tool under his belt now. He nevertheless stood at attention and inclined his head. "As you wish."

"Excellent. Now do go down to the confinement zones, if you would be so kind. It is time to harvest from the boy once more. Remove all the evidence as well. We don't want our guest of honor becoming too aware of himself."

"Of course, sir."

"And do not worry yourself over the younger brother, Saïx. I'm sure that this mission his brother is on…will keep him sufficiently silent."

The overseer walked to the door again and eased it open, but paused midway outside the door as a new thought struck him.

"Sir…will you allow one more question?" he asked as he turned back to face the elderly figure upon the throne.

Xehanort waved a hand for him to proceed.

"If you are already aware that this soldier will defect from your cause…why were you so insistent on recruiting him?"

Xehanort smirked again as he reclaimed his spot on his throne. "Terribly sorry, dear Saïx. But that information, I'm afraid…is strictly confidential."

* * *

Some part of me kept waiting for Riku to start laughing and say that what he'd just said was only a joke to scare me. The next several seconds seemed like whole lifetimes as I waited for some reaction. But none was forthcoming.

It took me a while to realize that Riku was waiting for _my_ reaction to his words. His eyes were hard and dead serious as he stared at my face, though I had no idea what expression I was wearing. It took me another long while to accept it.

He wasn't lying.

It was a good thing I was still on my bed, because I probably wouldn't have been able to stand.

"Wh-what are you saying, Riku?" I whispered, my voice shaking. "Roxas doesn't…he doesn't know who I am? But – but h-how can that – that's not…"

"It is," Riku said grimly. "Even if you went and rescued him now, he wouldn't recognize you."

"Th-there's got to be some kind of mistake," I pleaded. "I mean – I know it's been a long time, but that can't be –"

"That's not the issue here, Naminé_. _Didn't you even consider for one second what the consequences of Xehanort's actions would be? Did you think Roxas just got through all those horrible tortures without any scars in all senses of the phrase?" I recoiled at his words in shock as he glared at me unflinchingly. "Well?"

He might as well have just slapped me in the face than have said those words. I just sat there in numb shock as realization hit me anew.

For all these years, I'd only had a vague idea of what was going on in that fortress. Super soldiers, torture chambers, cruel experiments on imprisoned humans – innocent citizens and psychopathic criminals alike…not even for a second did I think that Roxas would ever be subject to any of those horrible things, if only because Xehanort had some sort of use for him and so would want to keep him alive. I hadn't thought about the fact that that was the _only_ thing I knew for a fact. I never should've assumed that they weren't traumatizing him in all senses of the term simply because he was being kept alive. Under those circumstances, being dead was probably a preferable option. I felt hopelessly stupid and naïve. There was no way I'd be able to save him if I stayed along that ridiculously idealistic line of thought.

I didn't realize that I'd been crying until Riku wiped my face with a handkerchief.

"I'm sorry," he apologized as he moved the piece of cloth away. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I just…needed you to understand what's been happening all this time. And I needed you to know that these false fantasies are just that."

I dried my eyes quickly with the sleeve of my nightgown. "It – it's alright," I said, my voice hoarse thanks to the emergence of the tears. "I was stupid to think that way, anyway. I'm the one who should be apologizing –"

"Don't," he interrupted. "It was only natural you'd think that way. I just thought it'd be for the best if I cleared things up." He then grinned slightly. "Besides, apologizing isn't going to help us think of a way to bust Roxas out."

I looked at him in surprise. It took me a minute to process what he was telling me. "Wait, you're saying –"

"Now that you know all this," Riku continued as he rose from his seat next to me, "I don't think you'd want to just sit around here and do nothing, am I right? Hurry up and get ready. We should try to infiltrate the fortress while their best soldier is preoccupied with other things."

I stared. "How do you know –" I started to say, but then he held up a hand to silence me.

"I have an inside source," he assured me with a knowing smile, tapping the side of his head. "Probably the best there is. And you're seriously not going to put that decade of training to waste by dawdling, are you? I know you're a wanted outlaw, but that's not going to stop you." He winked as he turned away. "I know that for a fact."

My heart swelled in elation once I understood his words. "Riku…thanks. I won't let you down, I promise."

Riku was at my door by this point, but he raised his hand and gave me a thumbs-up to indicate that he heard. "Roxas is the one you should worry about not letting down, not me. This operation will take several days at best, so suit up! We need to meet with everyone else."

As Riku vanished from sight, I tossed the covers off of me and leapt to my feet, completely ignoring the feel of the ice-cold tile floor beneath it in my excitement. My chance was finally here. No more scoping and reconnaissance. No more "what-ifs" and all other forms of half-formed resolve. This was it. We were finally moving forward with all the preparations we had made through the years. All that effort would finally amount for something now. I knew that there would be many trials ahead, but that wasn't going to stop me.

_Roxas_, I thought confidently. _Whether you remember me or not, I guarantee that by the end of this week, you'll be out of that horrible place. And then, we can start over from the beginning._

* * *

Black. Empty. Silent.

Nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing to hear.

Just get away from what's hurting you.

…

You're slowly becoming aware. You feel cold; you feel weak. You hear the voices of strangers, see the faces of people you don't know…

…A face. A girl's face. She looks familiar, but you don't know who she is. You don't have a name to attach to that face.

She speaks. _Roxas…_

She knows your name. _Who…who are you?_

_I'm a friend. I'm here to save you._

A friend? You never had friends. You don't have any friends. _What? But I…I don't…_

The girl smiles. She looks sad. Why? _I'm going to help you, Roxas…because you helped me._

_I don't know what you're saying…I don't remember helping you…_ You don't remember helping anyone, much less helping her. You don't remember anything. You're empty. After all this, you're still empty. _I don't understand…a name…please, give me a name…who are you?_

_I'm…_ Her face and her voice both fade to nothing before she can answer.

_No, wait…come back…come back…!_

My eyes flew open.

"Come back!" I shouted as I sat bolt upright. I suddenly felt my chest and throat ache at that motion, and I grasped it to ease some of the pain. It took me a minute to realize that I was on my cot. I wasn't on the ground anymore.

_How did I get here…?_ I wondered as my breathing slowed down to normal levels. _Hold on…what was I doing? _I closed my eyes to concentrate. _I was talking, wasn't I? I was talking to someone…no, wait; that's not right…that man came up to my cell, didn't he? Then he brought out his lighter and –_

My heart throbbed painfully at the ever-encroaching thought. _That's right…the fire…he showed me fire… _Maybe that was when I'd lost consciousness? I couldn't remember much after that, though that didn't explain how I'd ended up on my bed. I'd been on the floor when that happened, hadn't I? Did somebody move me?

I shook my head to clear those thoughts away, though that motion in itself caused my head to hurt. Another memory lapse; that was all this was. But of all the times that this could've happened…

I raised my right hand to my bare neck and rubbed it gingerly. They both felt raw, like someone had scrubbed them clean with some rough cloth. The skin felt extra tender and exposed. This sensation was a normal complement to my bouts of unconsciousness, though this was much weirder than the lapses themselves. Sometimes the entire length of my face down to my chest felt that way. It was ridiculous. Just what went on in those blank spots in my already-messed-up memory, anyway?

A brief yet sharp pain shot through my temples as I tried to recall, so I tried to stop myself. _Don't try too hard…it's not worth it._

Trying too hard to remember anything never did me any good. I didn't want to think about all the other times that I'd tried. I could barely even begin to count the number of headaches induced from that.

As I sat there wincing and massaging my temples, my thoughts wandered back to the strange dream I had…or maybe it hadn't a dream. I wasn't sure which parts had been the dream and which parts hadn't. But whatever it was, it was still strange.

It was that girl on the Wanted poster. I didn't know why or how I was so sure, but I was positive that it had been the same person. That was what weirded me out. What was she doing in my dreams?

_I'm a friend. I'm here to save you._

Okay, so she'd called me a friend…or rather, she'd called herself my friend. Did that mean this girl – the one that had infiltrated the fortress some time ago – had come here looking for me? That was why she hadn't stolen anything, because she had only come to find me?

And if she had come here looking for me, then that must mean she knew me…or at the very least, knew who I was. Maybe I'd be able to get some answers from her – if I ever saw her in person, anyway.

But then again, she'd only been chased out a couple days ago, and a warrant had been put out for her…she probably wouldn't be so quick to come back here if she was smart.

Unless she was crazy. Or desperate. Or something.

Or maybe that dream had just been a figment of my imagination and subconscious desire to get out of this place, even in spite of the fact that I had nowhere to go.

"Just who is she…?" I muttered to myself.

"Sounds like you're awake." A voice shook me out of my thoughts, and I flinched at the sound of it despite myself. I whipped my head up and looked outside the bars apprehensively, but there was no one there. I breathed a sigh of relief as realization slowly settled in.

"Oh," I chuckled nervously as I lowered my hands, "it's only you."

"Good to know that I'm not much of a threat to you," my neighbor replied in a somewhat acerbic tone. His voice sounded a bit labored and restrained, like he was trying to avoid yelling. "That makes me feel a lot better."

I frowned. "You don't sound too good," I noted. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said shortly, muttering a curse under his breath before wincing again. "Don't sweat it."

I wasn't so sure. He sounded like he was hurt somewhere – probably badly, too. "You sure about that?" I asked skeptically. "It…it sounds like you got hurt somewhere. Did you fall off your bed or something?"

There was no response to this, and I was afraid that I'd somehow crossed the line. After about a minute or so, I was about to take back the question and apologize, but before I could get the chance he suddenly came back with a low, "Yeah. Why don't we just go with that."

_So it's_ _not that, _I guessed, but I kept my mouth shut. He was hiding something from me – well, that was usual for him, but this was different. This one…I didn't know what it was, but this was big. I could tell.

"Fine, then." I scratched my spikes, and I could feel the oiliness soaked through each strand. I hadn't felt so dirty for this long before. "God, I wish I could wash my hair or something."

He scoffed like he found that idea ridiculous. "You care about personal hygiene, too?"

"Of course I do!" I said, slightly offended. "Geez, I'm not some kind of animal, you know. What's that question supposed to mean anyway?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"Man, you are acting _weird_. I mean, weirder than normal. What's going on?"

"I told you; it's nothing," he retorted through gritted teeth. "Just mind your own business."

He actually sounded kind of mad this time, so I decided to drop the subject. "Sorry."

There was an exasperated sigh on the other side of the wall, but otherwise he didn't give any sort of reaction.

I sat up in a more comfortable position on my cot, leaning up against the back wall, and let my thoughts meander until it wound up back at the girl. Thanks to that dream I had I just couldn't stop thinking about her. I found myself wishing that she'd show up here again, though I knew that there really wasn't any way I could benefit from another one of those infiltrations. It wasn't like I'd actually be able to see her in person – or hell, even know that she was here at all. It was a vain hope – she'd probably just get chased out like last time, or captured and imprisoned here like me (and I wouldn't even be able to talk to her if she did, since the people here weren't stupid and would put her as far from me as possible), or worst case scenario – get killed. The odds wouldn't be in her favor.

Then the scream jerked me out of my thoughts.

"AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGHHH!"

I just about leapt out of my skin at the sound of it. Screams next to somebody with hypersensitive hearing wasn't exactly the best combination.

"What the hell was –" It took me a moment to gather my thoughts and realize that the scream had come from my neighbor. My chest flared with worry.

"H-hey!" I called urgently through the wall separating us. "Hey, what's going on? Are you okay? Say something!"

"Damn it…" I heard him spit out amidst wheezy gasps, "This fucking hurts…urgh…"

So I'd been right; he _had_ been hiding something big. It had been completely silent before he screamed; there was no way that this could be some kind of accident. What was happening on the other side of this wall?

"Tell me what's going on!" I demanded, a bit of my frustration leaking out unconsciously. "What the hell is happening to you?!"

He chuckled once before groaning. "Heh…looks like…the cat's out of the bag now…"

"What are you talking about?"

Before he could answer, another bellow of agony ripped from his throat, cutting off in a sort of gurgled choke – though this one hadn't been as bad as the first. Even so, the downright primal feel of that cry threw me into an irrational panic. The muffled _thud_ of his body hitting the floor didn't help that.

I gnashed my teeth together in exasperation. Ugh, I'd never felt so helpless before in my life! And considering my superbly messed-up life; that was definitely saying something!

"Hey," I pleaded desperately against the wall. "Hey, get a hold of yourself! Get a grip!"

He coughed harshly for a moment before saying anything in response. "Oh God…" he muttered, his voice slurred. "It feels like…my guts are being ripped out…"

My blood turned to ice at that. "What?"

He didn't answer me, only letting out weak moans here and there that punctuated his labored breathing. He must've been so out of it thanks to whatever pain he was going through by this point that he probably hadn't even heard me. Judging from the sound of his voice, he probably wasn't going to last much longer. That scared me more than ever.

"…someone…" His voice suddenly cut through the silence again. "Someone…anyone…h-help him…please…" He sounded much different this time around. So pitifully weak, desperate, scared…it was so strange, so strangely difficult listening to him act like this. "Don't let him die…don't let him die …don't die, Sora…you can't…you can't die…"

His whispers trailed off, and he fell completely silent. I listened hard for another minute, but there was nothing. He'd fallen unconscious.

I turned away from the wall, my palms sweaty and shaking. I couldn't comprehend what had happened. I put a hand on my chest to try and control my fluttering heartbeats, and my thoughts started running on their own again.

As much as listening to his pleas had been heart-wrenching, some part of me had managed to register what he'd just said. He'd been begging nonsensically to let somebody live, to have someone, anyone save this person's life, but then…near the end, he'd sounded like he was talking directly to that person. He'd said a name.

Who was Sora?

* * *

Sora had never wanted to stab somebody in the chest so much in his entire life.

They called him away from off-duty for an assassination of someone whose identity they weren't even sure about? No name, no physical description, nothing? Just "a possible rebel"? What kind of bullshit was that? Why couldn't they even do their jobs _right _when giving out a mission like this one? He could walk right into a trap and he wouldn't even know who to decapitate, if anyone was even present.

He huffed in indignation and fingered the handle of the twelve-inch knife strapped to his belt as he strode away from the boundaries of the city he'd just crossed into the wilderness that not even Xehanort had been able to tame. He didn't know the name of the city if it had one, nor did he particularly care as he left it in his wake. The civilians had given him looks of horror and disgust and various other generally cold expressions once they'd had an eyeful of his gray-upon-gray uniform with the distinctive _X_ mark, but by this point he was used to that sort of thing – not to mention it would do him no good if he started feeling resentful toward them anyway. He just wanted to get this ridiculous job done and over with. Maybe get a punch in on the stoic overseer when he got back.

Most other people probably would've thought _if_, but Sora wasn't like most people. Was he even a person by this point? He didn't even know.

His fingers tightened around the leather grip of his weapon as he got closer and closer to his destination. He had a gun also – tucked into the holster strapped to the left side of his hip – but he avoided using it if he could. He didn't like how detached these weapons were. There was no point in killing if you didn't have your hands soiled by the act. With firearms all you did was fire a high-powered projectile into somebody's chest or temple, and that was the end of it. There was no thrill in killing anyone like that; it was just cowardly. And you weren't the one ending that person's life, either – it was the freaking bullet you just flung from the barrel of your gun by pulling the trigger.

At least you got a chance to do it hands-on if you were fighting close quarters with a knife. The knife was in your hands as you sliced someone's throat open. _You_ were committing the act, not the weapon. That made the act of murder feel a lot more real to him, a whole lot more tangible and attachable to him and his being.

Was he proud of these feelings? Of course not. But since he'd dirtied his hands like this so often anyway, he might as well pay the full price of pulling such a deed and acknowledge that _he _was doing the killing. He wasn't going to be pardoned for all these deaths his hands caused when this was over.

_As if this will ever be over, _a voice in his head said.

He shook his head rapidly. He was getting all irrational again. Of course this would be over. He just had no idea when or how. All he could do was keep going. Ryusei probably wouldn't ever forgive him for doing any of this, but that didn't really matter to him as long as he stayed alive. His brother didn't need to know the details of what he was doing or what he was going through.

When he stopped for a moment to reorganize his thoughts, he was at the threshold of his destination – the nameless jungle dominating the eastern side of this country that no one dared ventured into if they valued their sorry hides. He'd been in here several other times, chasing down the occasional prison escapee, but he usually left them in there after the third day or so since no ordinary person could survive in that otherworldly place for longer than that. Something was always out there, waiting for an ignorant human to wander into its clutches.

It was this forest that made Sora question the fact that Xehanort was building up his superhuman army when no one else out there could even get past their borders in the first place, but that wasn't his problem. All the better this country was razed if by some microscopic chance an invasion happened. It wouldn't be a lie that he was disgusted by his lineage, but there wasn't much he could really do about that. He could denounce his family as much as he wanted to; it wasn't going to change who he was.

But now wasn't the time to whine about his frustratingly retarded circumstances. He had a job to do. That encroacher wouldn't assassinate himself or herself, though that would make this annoying mission a hell of a lot easier.

He had barely set foot onto the marshy dirt when his ears caught the faint yet distinct sound of an object hurtling through the air in his direction. It was coming straight for the base of his skull – if it made contact, he wouldn't even have time to blink before his breath cut off. He froze in his tracks and listened carefully as the object drew ever closer (with his luck it was probably a throwing star or some kind of knife), flicked his arm up, and managed to catch it between his fingers in midair before it reached its target.

Sora brought his hand down and eyed the projectile that had halted his progress, turning it around in his fingers. It was a push knife – relatively large for its weapon class; it was almost the size of a kunai – with serrated edges, a white leather grip, and a red ribbon tied to the tip of the handle. It also wasn't made of steel, as he assumed most knives were – this knife's blade was pure black, and it had an extremely smooth, almost silky texture to it. He recognized the material at once – this weapon had been carved from pure flint. This was the stone used for the heads of arrows more commonly than for knives, since its sharpened edges cut through flesh cleanly and quickly, not to mention arrowheads were much easier to mass-manufacture than knives. So it was likely that this weapon had been custom-made.

Sora found himself chuckling despite the fact that he could have easily died several seconds ago as he brought the knife up to eye level. His target sure had some strange taste in weapons. It was going to be fun slitting this one's throat.

"Impressive," a voice said from behind him. It sounded female and probably a tad younger than he was. "No one has ever avoided my knives like that before."

He shifted his weight ever so slightly. _So it's a woman, huh? _he thought. Instinct told him that he should turn around, but he decided against it. He didn't normally like having to face the prospect of killing a female, but if he didn't succeed here, he wouldn't get his long overdue rest. And by this point he was willing to do practically anything to get it. Xehanort was pretty much waving this prospect of vacation in his face just out of reach, like he was some kind of kitten that he was relentlessly teasing. Perhaps that thought was contributing to this as well.

"I'd have to say the same for you," he replied, tightening his grip on the rogue weapon as he tilted his head in her direction. "You almost managed to sneak up on me. But it's gonna take a whole lot more than this to take me down."

"You've got a lot of confidence in yourself."

"I've got a reason to."

"Fair enough." He heard the owner of the voice step closer to him, her footsteps shuffling ever so slightly in the grass, and stop about five feet behind him. "No matter how much you believe in your skills, though; should you stay standing with your back turned to me?"

He exhaled in an exasperated way. "Listen here, wench," he said, his voice attaining a fleck of impatience. "I would've turned around ages ago if I decided that you were a threat to my health. I just want this done so I can go back and get some goddamned rest. I've got nothing against you, but you're standing between me and my vacation, and I've got to take out the trash, so to speak."

She giggled amusedly. He hated it. "Wow, were you always this crass?" she asked him.

Sora held back the urge to throw that knife into her throat right there at that remark. "I guess you can say that it's part of my job description."

"Is that right," she said with a hint of laughter remaining in her tone, which made his impatience pique all the more. "I like men like you. It's really too bad that you were the one sent to try and kill me."

"_Try_ and kill you?" He chuckled humorlessly as he flipped the knife end over end in between his fingers. "Don't you realize who you're talking to? I'm not a newbie at this, woman. _Try_ doesn't apply to this soldier."

"Oh, I know very well who I'm talking to," his adversary answered, her voice slowly losing its carefree lilt. "You're different from who I thought I knew, but that isn't going to stop me today. Stooping so low as to become the slave of a power-hungry dictator – I thought you were more than that, Sora."

Sora froze at the sound of his name coming from her lips. He barely had time to turn around before the woman flew at him with another knife in hand, driving the weapon right through his shoulder blade and into the trunk of one of the trees, pinning him there. It happened so fast he forgot that he was supposed to cry out in pain.

But this pain and the numbness now spreading down his entire arm barely registered with him as the woman standing over him, pinning his shoulder to the tree by her knife with her right hand, caressed his suddenly clammy cheeks with her left and gently traced his lips with hers.

The knife slipped from between his sweaty and shaking fingers. All of a sudden he couldn't breathe – she might as well have ripped his lungs out by that point.

"Well, then," she breathed as she moved down to his chin then slowly lifted her head away, her cold indigo eyes boring into his horrified blue. "Let's get back to why you're here. You were sent here to kill me, weren't you? But I do wonder about something…"

She then pushed her long cherry-red hair away from her face and kissed him full in the lips. Sora was still too much in shock to react, much less retaliate.

After what seemed like ages, she pulled away, only to croon in a sickly sweet tone, "Do you think you have what it takes…to kill the only woman you've ever loved?"

* * *

_You know it's gonna be dark when stuff like this happens in the second chapter of a super-long story._

_Guys, please please _please_ let me know if the switching narrators confuse you. I know it can get pretty mind-screwy trying to keep these scenes in chronological order._

_For the confused, here is the order of events in this chapter: __Sa__ï__x__ and Namin__é (these two are simultaneous), then Sora, then Ryusei, then Roxas. More will be revealed in the next chapter if this doesn't make sense. And don't you worry; these narrations will get more consistent as the chapters go on – perhaps by the fifth chapter or so. So you'll have to hold out until then. Sorry. ^^; _

_Anyway, hope you enjoyed this one and that you'll forgive me if __Saïx__'s portion was too dry and boring. It was my first time writing him. Ever and anywhere. So cut me a little slack. Please? :P And for the love of all that is holy, please don't threaten to tie me to a gasoline-drenched stake and throw a lit match at me for the ending scene. I know this kissing scene isn't the best, okay? Again, it's my first time! So please don't kill me! ;~;_

_…God, for a story I said I'd avoid writing author's notes in, this turned out pretty long…okay no more! Promise!_


	4. Hurts

_**WARNING**__: There will be some graphic torture in the second section of this chapter. It's probably not going to be as bad as some other ones you may have read, since the situation under which this occurs gives me severe limitations in way of options, but I want you to keep this in mind before you read on._

_I've also decided to clearly state who is narrating with each section break to clear up any confusion._

_All right, all the formalities are out of the way. Here we go!_

**Ch. 3: Hurts**

**Roxas**

I felt my nails digging into my skin. My eyes were squeezed shut so tightly someone would have had to pry them open. My jaws were clenched, and my ears felt numb as my hands did all that they could to block out the cries of pain.

I had no idea how long it'd been since he'd passed out, or why he'd suddenly started moaning unconsciously after several minutes. All I knew that it was killing me. I couldn't take much more of this without breaking down myself.

_No more…_ I thought desperately, clutching my ears all the more tightly to try and block out the sound of his whimpers. _No more…I can't take anymore…someone make it stop…somebody make it stop…_

I felt my eyes sting and something wet trickle down my cheeks as another cry of agony split the silence. I curled in on myself even more to try and make myself deaf to these cries. But it didn't work. I could still hear the whimpers, the moans, the gasps, the nonsensical pleas. I couldn't block it out no matter what I tried.

"Leave him alone," I whimpered through my clenched teeth. "Whoever you are…please, leave him alone…"

I clutched my ears all the harder as the cries of pain grew all the more frequent.

This wasn't right. This just couldn't be right!

* * *

**Sora**

Sora still couldn't breathe.

Nor could he talk. His voice had utterly abandoned him at the revelation. Not that he had the strength to say anything in the first place – he was still trembling, almost seizure-like, so much that he could barely move. He had now become completely oblivious to the pain in his shoulder, which would almost certainly cripple him physically in the long run. His legs had already given out by this point, but he was being held up by that knife she'd plunged into his shoulder blade, which only exacerbated the agony.

The shock was too much. There was no way that this could be real – no conceivable way in _hell_. There was no way that this could be who he was thinking she was. She was dead; she was supposed to be dead…she _had_ to be dead…

Yet, here she was. She pulled away to better see him full in the eye. "Oh, sorry," she said, false concern gleaming in her cold eyes. "Was that a bit much for you?"

He could still only manage to stare at her in shock and rage, unable to retaliate verbally. _This bitch…_

"Come on, I thought you were stronger than this," she went on, silently drawing another blade as she drew close again. "What happened to my knight in shining armor, hm?"

Sora opened his mouth, but no sound came out as she drew closer step…by step…by step. He was completely helpless like this – he couldn't move; he couldn't speak, let alone fight back. He could do nothing but watch as this unholy abomination of a woman drew ever so closer.

_She's going to kill you_, his inner voice said then. _She's going to kill you if you don't move, Sora. C'mon…move, damn it…MOVE!_

Right before the moment she would once again encroach upon his personal space, he opened his mouth once more. But instead of trying to speak, he bit down as hard as he could onto his lower lip – so forcefully he felt his teeth puncture the tender flesh. The sharp stinging pain jarred him back to reality, and he swiftly used his free hand to knock the knife out of hers and raised his leg to kick her a good distance away from the tree on which he'd been pinned.

Horror kicked in briefly once Sora had realized what exactly he'd just done, but he got over it quickly and continued to eye the witch before him. There was no chance in hell that he was going to be killed by a woman. Even if that woman was his old, supposedly dead lover. Simple point; he just couldn't let himself get killed yet. He had way too much he wanted to do before then.

Some surprise flickered in the woman's face as she recovered from the unexpected blow. "Well, it looks like you've still got a bit of fight left in you," she observed, looking over him in renewed interest. "Good to see."

Sora finally managed to find his voice, yet it was only barely comprehensible blathering. "H-how could – how could you…"

"Oh, Sora," she chided with an exaggerated roll of the eyes. "I thought you'd have a bit more faith than that. Did you really think that I would die so easily?"

"But…I saw you…I saw you being taken by them –"

"And you immediately assumed that I was killed after that?" Her deep azure eyes grew frigid. "Because I was taken by _them _all those years ago?"

Sora couldn't form a proper response to that. "I –"

"You did, didn't you?" she interrupted as she walked closer again. "You know, I had high hopes for you back then. I just had this feeling…that you would change for the better. You gave me all the reasons to believe that. When they took me, I held out hope that you would find me. And yet…" She reached out and stroked his cheek again tenderly, like he was a helpless child. "Here you stand. My shattered hopes incarnate."

"What?" Sora couldn't process her words. She had wanted him to change? For the _better_? There had been something wrong with him? "Kairi, I – I don't –"

She sighed in disappointment. "Of course, the way you are now – there's no way you'd understand that. In that case, let me put it in a term you can actually comprehend." She removed her hand from his cheek, her expression unreadable. "You…were a wasted potential."

Sora barely had time to take her words into consideration before the knife pierced his right eye.

Up until that point, he thought he knew pain. He thought he understood agony. He thought he could define torture.

But nothing could define this pain. It overtook everything; the world narrowed down to just him, his eye, and the writhe-inducing agony. He couldn't remember if he'd screamed; he couldn't remember if he'd pulled the knife back out on impulse – all he knew was that it hurt. And it hurt like the fiery pits of hell itself.

This was agony. Pure, raw, unblemished _agony_.

It felt like an eternity to him – the blinding, agonizing torture that was a shard of enameled stone buried in the tender flesh of his eye. It was still there; he could still feel it – until Kairi pulled the knife out again.

It was as if she had poured pure acid in his already-disfigured eye. It was on fire, an inextinguishable flame burning out the very last of the jelly-like sphere that she had popped. He couldn't curb the scream that followed ripping from his exerted lungs; he couldn't help but contort his limbs in response, likely severing even more ligaments in his shoulder in the process – it was unrelenting, unforgiving, unfeeling _pain_.

_She wants to kill me_, some hazy part of his jumbled mind thought wildly._ She wants to kill me…she wants me dead…!_

_No…I can't die…I don't want to die; I don't want to die!_

"Oh, no; I'm not going to kill you," he heard her say through the deafening buzzing in his ears as if she had somehow read his thoughts. "That wouldn't be fun, would it? I wouldn't get to watch you squirm by my hand."

Somehow, that thought brought him even more terror than before.

He didn't care that he had no grounds in thinking this way, as he was basically a sin against nature himself. But that didn't matter; she was still worse, way worse than he was. He at least acted his part. But her…this went completely against her nature! She was human; she wasn't supposed to act like a monster!

At this point Sora was fighting for coherent thought. He needed to pull himself together, or he wouldn't be walking away from this. The fire was still burning in his right eye socket; all he could see in his remaining eye was red, black, and colorless dots swimming in and blurring his vision. His arm was practically useless now; almost all the nerves in his shoulder had been severed. He could taste the blood on his tongue, his teeth, and his lips, the metallic taste permeating throughout. He was pinned against a tree, at the complete mercy of this woman – this inhuman, sadistic, twisted monster of a woman. And he knew in his gut that she was far from finished.

Sora actually found the energy to grin at that inherent thought, which no doubt made him look as if he was now a couple marbles short – and maybe he was, if this plan of his worked. After all, no one would expect a sane man to smile at the prospect of being continually mutilated.

She wanted to have her fun? She wanted to watch him squirm? Well, that was fine with him. If that was the case, then all he would have to do now was to toss this revenge-hungry bitch a stick of meat or ten. Or simply force that greasy meat-covered bone right down her gullet. At least this torture would end quicker that way. She'd be satisfied with the amount of damage that she'd do, or maybe it'd end quicker if she grew terrified enough at what he was planning on doing to stop of her own accord.

He wasn't going to be played with like some beaten toy. He was going to end this torture on his own terms.

He lowered his free hand, exposing the gaping hole in his skull where his eye had previously been. He felt sticky, gelatinous material cling to the sensitive skin on his fingers and palms, and he could feel that same watery semi-fluid mixing with another, more viscous substance (that was probably blood) as it flowed down his face and dripped off his chin. It stung and burned like the devil's fiery coal pits once it was exposed to the open air, but he didn't complain – this was nothing compared to what he would soon be subjecting himself to.

Sora blinked his working eye several times to make his vision clear as much as he possibly could without nauseating himself. He raised his head slightly to get a glimpse of his assailant – there was unmistakable surprise and confusion in her eyes; clearly she had seen the bloody smile that had graced his lips earlier, and had been unable to glean the reason it had appeared at all.

"You…you're smiling," she said, obviously shaken, yet still trying in vain to keep the uneasiness out of her voice. "Wh-why're you smiling?"

He blinked again, confused for a moment. He was still smiling? That grin was still in place?

He felt it stretch all the wider at that thought. Ha, all the better then! It would make his job much easier.

"Gee…I have no idea," he said at last, shifting his weight so that his legs more or less supported his weight. His voice sounded throaty and low, like a frog that had croaked far too many times, but he ignored it. "I guess…maybe I just find this all so…_ironic_."

"What're you –" She didn't get a chance to complete this question, because Sora had lashed out and snatched her wrist with his free hand as soon as the final word had left his lips and proceeded to drive the knife that she'd taken out but forgotten to deploy right through his abdomen.

Under different circumstances he wouldn't have been able to tell who was more surprised at this deed, but here it was clear to him that Kairi was shocked beyond words at this sight.

"Wh-what the – what do you think you're –"

"Heh, you know…I'd rather not," he grunted through the pain as he fought to keep her from pulling her arm away. "But since…you're obviously a…revenge-hungry and…overall sadistic bitch, I don't see any reason for me to just…stand here and dangle the treat over your head…you know?"

He could see the confusion and rage burning in her eyes at his words. "You _want_ this?" she screeched in disbelief. "You actually want me to –"

"Nice to see we're on the same page." He had to stop talking for a moment as violent coughs began wracking his body with even more agony. His throat burned as blood came spewing out of his mouth – he'd buried that knife practically hilt-deep.

"You're insane," she spat as she fought all the harder as his blood splattered onto her bare, pale skin, but she was no match against him when it came to brute strength. "You're fucking insane! This isn't the way I –"

"Oh, I think you're a little confused, Kairi," he huffed, trying to catch his breath. "Pain is pain all the same, isn't it? No matter who it is that is on the giving or receiving end, or how much of it there is." A guttural chuckle escaped him. "You want to see me in pain, don't you? You want to see this soldier on his knees, begging you for his mercy. See, I _would_ do that if I weren't pinned to this tree. Maybe if you'd kindly let me down and let me grovel at your feet, it'd give you a bit more _satisfaction_."

At that word, he tightened his hold on her bare wrist (made easier by the stickiness of the blood that had coated his hand) and forced her to twist the knife slightly. The resulting pain washed almost everything in red, and he fought to stay conscious as his internal organs were being turned into a chunky flesh smoothie thanks to the serrated edges of the weapon. At least, that was what it felt like to Sora. Normal people would have been knocked unconscious at this pain, but he had to stress it to himself again and again that he _wasn't_ a normal person.

_Stop being surprised. Pain is pain. No matter the degree, no matter who deals it or takes it._

"Are you – are you trying to kill yourself?!" Kairi shrieked in some kind of rage-induced panic. At some point she must've removed her right hand from the knife pinning his shoulder, because she was using it to try and pry her knife out of his gut. He didn't know when that had happened, but it made no difference to him. One arm was enough to keep the knife where it was, even in this half-dead state.

"Ooh, aren't you clever." He winced as the knife jerked in Kairi's grip as she continued thrashing to get free. "I thought you'd be able to figure it out sooner than that…_princess_."

He had finally struck a nerve. Whatever trace of panic she had had was gone; pure rage was all that Sora could feel from her now. Apparently she didn't particularly enjoy being called something as pampered and spoiled as a _princess_.

_All right_, he thought as he drew in as huge a breath as his current condition would allow. _I'm leaving the rest to her now._

"Don't you dare" – he heard her flick out another knife from an invisible case (she must've had a near-limitless supply of those things) – "call me a _princess!_"

She took the blade and went for his neck – specifically, the spot underneath the right side of his chin that he knew was the jugular – and swiftly sliced it open.

She'd done a pretty rough job of it; he could feel the sharp sting almost immediately. She'd also cut it a little low, so not as much blood was flowing out. It still hurt like a bitch, though, so that was fine. At least she hadn't gone for his throat or spinal cord. That would've been bad.

Though now he couldn't move his neck and – by extension – his head. To be fair, he _did_ ask for it.

He could still talk, however, which admittedly amazed him. "Did I hit a nerve?" he asked. His voice was barely a whisper – partly to taunt her, partly because he couldn't muster a tone louder than that. Having the lower jugular sliced open could do that to people. "So, are you satisfied yet? Or was that not enough, _Your Highness?_"

Sora didn't know what her expression was this time since his one-eyed vision had long since blurred into an epileptic riot of color, but he didn't need to see her face to know that he'd sent her careening into the red zone. He heard her scream, "_Don't call me that!_" and felt a sharp slap across his face that jerked his head to the side, widening the cut she'd already made on his neck. That was odd…he'd expected something different. He didn't dwell on it, however. What difference would it make if he started caring about that? Absolutely none.

After a moment, he began to feel dizzy and light-headed. Oh, _now_ the fact that his body was being emptied of its vital fluids was registering? Stupid brain, stupid blood, stupid injuries…he blamed his genetically-altered body as a whole, honestly – though that would do him no good, either.

"I didn't think – I don't – I won't be called a _princess _by anyone!" Kairi half-snapped, half-sobbed. "Especially not by someone by the likes of _you!_"

"Gotcha," he said, his words sounding slurred even to him. "Nicely done, by the way."

Well, he obviously had failed this mission. Those bastards probably had something to do with the fact that Kairi was still alive. He wouldn't be surprised if that turned out to be the truth; they had a hand in practically everything that went on in this stupid country – except maybe that little Outsider genocide. Not even they were sure how that had happened, and they didn't know how that freak of nature Outsider kid had been the only one to survive, either. He was almost grateful to the kid – for being a product of something the high and mighty dictatorship had had nothing to do with – but…he couldn't actually extend that feeling to true gratitude.

It was convenience. That was all.

His thoughts were going into these strange tangents, and yet he barely noticed. They must've been worse than he'd originally thought, those injuries…or he was just losing more blood than he'd expected. Being Branded, he could withstand injuries that would kill a human several times over, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. He almost missed being a normal person; at least they could easily put themselves out of their misery if they so wished.

"You idiot," Kairi went on furiously as she yanked the knife out of his stomach, which made him hiss in protest and lurch forward. He could feel his insides twisting and tearing as the blade came free. "I was told that I wasn't supposed to kill you, but you had to go and do that…"

That was probably an important piece of information, but Sora didn't pay much attention to it as she extracted the knife buried in his shoulder as well, though by this point his arm felt like an extra, useless appendage – he couldn't feel it at all. Without the support, he immediately crumpled down against the tree, his entire body limp with weakness, pain, and exhaustion. He must've looked pretty messed up at that moment. He struggled to keep breathing as Kairi knelt to be at his eye level.

"I wasn't supposed to kill you," she repeated, her voice full of reproach, "but no one told me I had to save you if you happened to be close to dying."

Sora forced out a chuckle, though it came out sounding more like a cough. "Isn't that…kind of you."

"Don't get the wrong idea," she said coldly as she rose to her full height. "I'm not doing it to save you. I just want it to be more fulfilling when I _do_ get to kill you."

"Oh…I'm not the one with the wrong idea." Sora raised his head with all the willpower he could currently muster, and glared at her full-on. "You're the one confused if you think you're going to kill me that easily. I do have an image to keep up, you know."

Kairi didn't speak for a moment, regarding both him and his words with what Sora assumed was an appraising look. But then she smiled in a mocking way.

"Whatever you say," she sighed. "Though really, that should be the least of your concerns. The general public already hates you for what you are anyhow."

Sora only smiled. That wasn't what he was worried about. He didn't care about the opinion of the masses. Only one person mattered to him more than anything else, though said person likely thought he was a phenomenal pile of shit now, like everybody else probably did.

"Well, if you're done," she said when no response was forthcoming, "I'll be going. See you around, Sora."

He lowered his head, unable to keep it raised any longer, as Kairi's footsteps retreated into the distance. He was soon left alone with the sound of the wind rustling through the branches of the trees around him blissfully unaware of the carnage that had occurred right beneath its foliage. There were occasional moans from the beasts lurking within the heart of the forest, likely smelling his blood, but Sora didn't heed them. They were the least of his problems right now.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.

The pain was numbing everything, overtaking all of his senses. He'd lost a ridiculous amount of blood, so he was feeling incredibly exhausted. He would give practically anything to get some sleep right about now. That was all he had wanted this whole time; couldn't the world cut him a bit of slack and let him take a short nap?

At that moment, he coughed again, and it felt like someone was stabbing his innards with a knife from the inside. That brief wave of pain knocked him back into reality.

No, he couldn't take a nap here. If he just sat here and let the injuries do their job, he would be long gone before anyone found him in this no-man's-land. Didn't dying pretty much defeat the purpose for which he'd chosen to be Branded? He had a long way to go, and it wasn't going to end today. Ryusei would never forgive him for that.

Speaking of, he probably wasn't going to be able to see his brother for a long while now. Going back to the fortress would mean that he would be discharged on the spot, and that was _not_ the way he wanted to go out. He wasn't particularly happy with himself for leaving his younger brother with the one person – well, two people – who were the last ones he wanted near him, but there wasn't much he could do about it now. He couldn't have anything go his way, unfortunately.

Okay, so he'd established to himself that he wasn't going to let himself die here. All he had to do now was to get away from this place. But how was he supposed to do that when he could barely move, much less stand? He'd lost too much blood; he didn't have the strength.

As soon as that thought had crossed his mind, Sora sucked in a huge breath and mentally smacked himself for thinking like a human being at a time like this. He was _not_ human, damn it; he wasn't supposed to disillusion himself like that! He was definitely going to handle this, because he _fucking_ _could_, and human instinct was not going to stop him here.

He tried moving his fingers. The right ones twitched – okay, good; those still worked. The left ones were unresponsive. He expected as much, but he felt nauseated at the fact anyway. It didn't matter whether he had Outsider genes or not – this wasn't going to heal properly for a couple months at best, or never at worst. He was going to have a hell of a time defending himself with just one arm, no matter how strong he was.

_Worry about that later_, he thought. _Just focus on getting back up first._

He then tried lifting his right arm off the ground. It took a couple tries, but eventually he managed to plant his blood-coated palm against the bark of the tree he was slumped against. Okay, he had a means to brace himself with.

Now, would his legs respond to him?

He moved to bring his knees in, and they did so with relative ease compared to the rest of him – Kairi hadn't thought about laying even a scratch on his only possible means of escape for some reason, but hell – he wasn't complaining. He could still walk; that was a major bonus to him right now.

Time to push himself up.

He gripped the sticky bark as hard as he could with his working fingers, and put his legs underneath him before he attempted to push himself to his feet, using both his legs and his right arm as support. He managed to get himself in a standing position at the very least, but he'd spent a ridiculous amount of energy trying to do just that. He leaned heavily against the trunk of the tree, breathing hard and trying to blink his sudden nausea away.

While he was doing that, his mind went into autopilot. He had to find a place to go, so he could avoid the searching eyes of the Branded soldiers – no doubt they'd be sent to look for him after a couple days. Being brought back to the fortress would end his journey way too early for his taste. And he couldn't go into any of the cities he'd passed through on his way here, either – the townsfolk would be all-too-happy to turn him in or just simply let him die on the streets from his wounds. And even if the citizens of the cities hadn't thought that way, he was way too far from all of the cities. He didn't even have a home to return to for even temporary refuge.

Somewhere no one would find him…somewhere no one would ever think to look…somewhere no one expected anybody to go…

_The river._ That was it. He could go to the banks of the Border River (it wasn't a pseudonym; it was actually its official name) to avoid getting found. Ever since a couple kids had almost drowned there all those years ago (one of them incidentally happened to have been Ryusei), no one ever went near the river anymore. It would be the perfect place. It was some distance away, but he could probably at least make it to the bank before he passed out in exhaustion. Maybe he could hide under the overpass so no passersby would see anything unless they were looking. It was better than being eaten half-alive by beasts straight out of horror stories.

Okay…he was standing, he was still alive, and he now had a hiding place – even if it had been a last-minute decision on his part.

All he had left to do was to walk. What to do after that…well, he didn't know. He was just hoping that Lady Luck would take even a minimal amount of pity on him and keep him alive for at least another day.

Once Sora had gathered enough strength, he started walking – well, more like limping – northward, toward the southern bank of the river. Each step brought him a fresh wave of pain, added to the empty eye socket's constant burning sensation and the numb, prickly feeling in his shoulder, at which point tears started leaking out of his remaining eye, but he pressed forward…and forward….and forward.

He had no idea how long he'd been walking, or even if he had reached his decided hiding spot, but eventually he felt the coolness of the shade and the distinct cold wind that blew over the surface of large bodies of water. He felt the grass beneath his boots turn into gravel, and he heard rushing water somewhere really close – right in front of him, almost below him.

Once he took all that in, all rational thought left him. He was at the river; that had been his goal. He didn't need to push himself anymore. He was allowed to rest now, right? He'd gone far enough. He just needed to rest now. Get some sleep. Get his energy back.

Sora had barely set foot onto the gravel before he slipped on the slippery granules of sand and fell into the river, but he didn't fight his body's protests this time. He was out like a light before he hit the water.

* * *

**Naminé**

I didn't know what was more frightening – facing the prospect of having to infiltrate a heavily fortified fortress guarded by freakish super-soldiers, or having my parents come along for said infiltration.

No, that wasn't a slip of the tongue on my part. My parents genuinely did want to join me and Riku in order to break into the fortress and rescue Roxas from their clutches once and for all. It's not that I was afraid that they were going to hinder the operation – no, I was more scared that _I'd_ be the one holding _them_ back. I'm not lying; through all my training I'd never managed to beat either of them in a spar even once. And even then, I had the sneaking suspicion that they'd been holding back.

That wasn't the only reason I was worried, though. I mean, if a huge crowd of people broke into the fortress and dashed into the cells, and Roxas saw all that, I didn't think he would take it well. Going off of what Riku had told me, Roxas probably didn't even remember who he was, either. If he saw a bunch of strangers trying to break him out, he'd probably think it was another kidnapping. That wasn't exactly the way I wanted to find him.

We were all gathered in the bar that my parents owned, called Seventh Heaven. We were in the back building, which was also technically where my family lived – the bar connected right to our house. We were all standing in the living room of the house, completely ignoring the plush sofas around us that we could have parked ourselves on in the middle of this argument.

And even so, they were hearing none of it.

"It's too dangerous for you to head there on your own! You aren't stopping us from coming along and that's final!" my mother insisted sharply.

Meet my mother. Tifa Lockheart, martial arts expert. I never asked her when or where she picked up the skills, mostly because I was afraid to ask. She helped me with the hand-on training in case I ever lost my weapons somehow. I still have bruises from our little bouts (though I'm being generous calling it that). Nothing short of a cannon ball flung at point blank was going to hinder me by this point after all she put me through.

"But I'm _not _heading there on my own!" I argued. "Riku's coming with me!"

"Don't argue with her," my father sighed, hefting his giant sword. "You don't want her busting out the jujitsu on you before we even head out."

This is my father, Cloud Strife. He's really (and I mean _really_) good with the sword. He was the one who taught me how to fight with a weapon – any weapon that I happen to get my hands on. He wasn't as rough as my mom was, but that didn't mean his training hadn't been rigorous. I still have the scars to prove it. Thanks to him, though, I can turn practically anything I grab into a weapon if I want to.

So you see why I was having trouble with this entire scenario. I wanted them to come because they'd be of some serious help with this operation, but on the other hand I didn't want to freak Roxas out when we found him, because that wouldn't help with the urgency of the mission. I was caught between a rock and a hard place, so to speak.

"But Dad, I –" I began, but Riku cut me off before I could finish.

"I think they should come with us," he said matter-of-factly.

"Riku!" I protested.

"Just think about it," he said, crossing his arms. "What are the odds that all four of us are going to make it all the way to the containment cells where Roxas is? We're about to break into the most heavily fortified building in this entire country. And just because their best soldier is busy, it doesn't mean that the rest are incompetent. We're going to need distractions on the way there, and the cells are pretty deep in. In the end, you'll probably be the one to make it there and break him out."

"What are you –"

"I'm not insinuating that the rest of us aren't going to make it out alive," he interrupted before I could go on. "I'm just saying that we will most definitely have opposition, because who in their right minds would let some renegades just waltz in and take their prize prisoner?" He glared at me with his hard cyan eyes. "I'm only being practical here. If you were just going to be so concerned about another person's welfare in this mission, then you've been wasting this past decade."

I flinched despite myself. He was right, of course; compassion wasn't going to get me anywhere in a world like this. I just couldn't help but worry about them. I mean, they were my parents, and Riku was…

"Y-you're right," I muttered before my thoughts went any farther, fidgeting with my clothes. "I'm sorry. I – I won't do it again."

I guess my mom must've felt sorry for me, because she came up to me and ran her fingers through my hair. Her voice was a bit softer than before.

"It's sweet of you to be concerned," she said gently. "But you don't need to worry. My little girl is made of sterner stuff; she won't let something like this getting in the way of rescuing her boyfriend, right?"

At that I immediately flushed and backed away. "H-he's not my boyfriend!" I said, flustered. "He's only –"

My dad chuckled. "Calm down," he said. "She's only teasing."

"Well it wasn't funny!" I retorted, my face flushing an even brighter red. "Besides everyone knows that – that we can't –"

"We know, we know," my mom assured me. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. That wasn't very considerate of me. I guess that…circumstances beyond our control just keep you two apart."

I lowered my gaze to the faded carpet. Everyone knew that Outsiders could never intermingle with humans like that. It just…wasn't possible, even if we tolerated it. But still, Roxas was a friend, almost family to me. I couldn't leave him in that dank prison to be tortured day and night for reasons that completely escaped him. That wouldn't be right.

I quickly shook my head to clear it. I couldn't afford to get distracted now. "Never mind that. When do we move out?"

"In a couple hours," Riku answered, checking his pocket watch. "That's when the sun will begin to set."

"Okay," I said. A couple hours. That was an adequate amount of time for me to clear my head. "Is it alright then if I go down to the river? I need some fresh air and a clear head before we leave."

"Feel free," my dad allowed easily. "Just don't fall in like last time."

My face felt hot again. "I know how to swim, Dad. Quit coddling me."

"Easy there," he said with a small chuckle, placating me by raising his hands in front of him. "Just reminding you."

Riku tried to stifle a chuckle as he said, "Just don't be long; okay, Naminé?"

"I won't," I sighed as I walked through the back door. "I'll be back soon."

"Oh, wait a moment!" My mother stopped me and put a silver pocket watch into my hand. "Just so you won't be late. And here" – she handed me a cell phone – "use this to call your dad's cell or Riku's, alright? If anything happens, or you're heading back – call and let us know so we can be prepared by the time you get back."

I nodded. "Okay. Don't worry; I won't be long."

I turned and stepped out the back door, which led into a shadowy, narrow alley, through which there was a shortcut down to the Border River – just a few minutes' walk from where I lived. That was the place where I'd nearly drowned when I was little, and it was where I first met Roxas. Ever since that time, when there had been a small surge in the number of kids nearly drowning in the swift currents, access to it by the public had become strictly forbidden. Of course, no one was around to enforce that principle, so there were constant trespassers.

That was just one reason that the river was off-limits – the other side of the river was where the Outsiders had once resided before they'd been mysteriously eradicated. I guess they were afraid that some people might defect to the enemy – though I honestly couldn't remember that ever happening once on the account of someone's free will. They'd usually been kidnapped and forced across (though that in itself was a reason to stay far away from this place). Everybody was bound and determined that the Outsiders did that on purpose – though I felt that they had their motivations. And now that they were gone, the remnants of their civilization were probably perceived as toxic or something (the place had gone out in a mix of massive firestorms and fissures; no one had any idea where they had come from, though), so no one was allowed near the river for that, either. But still, I just couldn't imagine Roxas being so heartless.

Then again, it'd been a decade since I'd seen him – he was probably a completely different person now. Even so, it was still difficult for me to picture, even after ten years of torment. He might be more bitter, but not outright vengeful like the rumors.

I must've been pretty lost in thought, because before I knew it I was standing at the river's shore. I hadn't even noticed the water-worn gravel crunching beneath my feet for several steps. I looked up the river, watching the swift currents rush by. This body of water snaked through the country right near the middle, effectively splitting this country into two. It wasn't a perfect line, of course, but there _was_ a reason this was called the Border River. Few plants lined the shore of the river, and the ones that did were hardy and strong – usually the thick, wide-girthed trees from the forbidden forest. Wild animals were scarce, and as far as I knew there weren't any fish or any sort of aquatic life beneath the surface of the waters, since the waters were too swift and cold for any sort of visible life.

Strange as it was, I felt at peace here. It was a place where terror and bliss coincided for me, and the bliss greatly overshadowed that terror. I loved coming here and letting the brisk wind blow against my skin and through my hair, breathing in the fresh air that usually accompanied large bodies of fresh water, in spite of the fact that I'd nearly died here. The rushing of the water was also pleasant for me to listen to – I always imagined the sound clearing away my muddled thoughts and letting me think properly about things.

I walked down the shoreline, listening to the crumbling of the gravel beneath my feet, listening to the water swirling about in its currents, breathing in the fresh air. I was headed for the spot where I had nearly drowned – the far eastern portion, close to where the river emptied into a lake somewhere in the woods (yet one more reason for people to avoid this place). It was about a ten-minute walk from my house alone, so I'd be able to head down there and relax for a bit before needing to head back.

As I was walking, though, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't right. Nothing had changed here aesthetically; everything seemed exactly the way I had left it the last time I came here. I wasn't sure what it was, but it just felt like this place had been…disturbed somehow. I couldn't figure out what was wrong until I started seeing red in the churning water.

Wait. Red?

There was no mistaking it; there were thin wisps of red highlighting the waves of the river. I hadn't noticed it earlier because the red must've washed away by the time it had reached where I was. But since I had been going up the river, I was now upstream far enough so that it didn't disappear quickly enough to escape my notice. It…it looked like blood.

But where was it coming from?

I looked far upstream, where the red was much more visible, and I saw something on the shore, halfway in the water. I couldn't tell what it was from this distance, so I decided to take a closer look. As I drew closer, I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see – maybe a wounded animal that had wandered out of the forest before dying there, or a piece of meat some butcher had decided had gone bad.

I definitely hadn't been expecting a person.

Once I was close enough to identify some key features and figured out that it was a person lying there, I have to admit that my heart skipped a couple beats. It was a boy – maybe nineteen, maybe in his early twenties, with brownish hair, in a gray-on-gray uniform torn and stained in his own blood, and his wounds – oh God, his wounds…

His right eye was gone, the gaping hole exposed the flesh inside to the elements; blood was flowing from a wide hole on his left shoulder that looked like he'd been stabbed by something thick and sharp, and his skin was bone-white. His stomach was ripped open and bleeding; I could swear I saw some of his internal organs through the water. The blood was still flowing strongly from his body, which meant that he hadn't been here long. My heart clenched in fear – what could have happened to make him look like this?

I drew closer cautiously, observing him minutely, and tried to ignore the nausea that washed over me as I saw more and more of his gruesome injuries. I'll spare you the details, but it wasn't pretty. Once I got close enough to him so that he was a couple feet away, I walked around his body so I could see his face and knelt, avoiding making physical contact with him. By all respects, he should've been dead. He was losing an enormous amount of blood thanks to the water, and his skin was so pale he could've passed as a corpse.

But he wasn't dead – at least, that was what I suspected. Most of his head was out of the water, so he couldn't be suffocating, and I could see his chest moving up and down through the bloodied water.

He was somehow still breathing.

I should've whipped out the cell phone and contacted Riku immediately – this boy was obviously hanging onto his life by a spider's thread, and he needed help if he was going to live. But the gray uniform made me hesitate. I was sure that it was the same uniform that the super-soldiers working for Xehanort wore. Leaving him here would be the smart idea.

But there was something gnawing at my chest – fear? guilt? – that I couldn't let go. He was still alive, but was it right for me to leave him here to die by bleeding out just because he worked for the enemy? And besides, if he really was one of those super-soldiers working for Xehanort, then this one was probably the one that Riku had said vacated the fortress – the best one that the old dictator had. Who – or what – could have done this to the rogue military's best? What if it came back for him and tried to finish him off? This soldier hadn't wronged me in any way, so it wouldn't be prudent of me to let him die here simply because of his allegiance.

I'd also heard that Xehanort forcefully drafted these soldiers into his service. There was a chance that this one wasn't loyal to the man he worked for.

I took out the pocket watch my mother gave me and looked at the time. I'd only been gone for about forty minutes. There was still time.

Before I could change my mind, I brought my phone out and dialed Riku's number.

* * *

_I'll totally understand if you flipped your lid once you found out who Naminé's parents were. Sorry, I know it's old hat, but I just found it fitting for this AU. She does have a family, for those of you thought she was an orphan._

_Ahem, besides that, I have a favor to ask. As this is my first time ever doing a graphic torture scene, I'd really like some feedback/advice on it. I'm dead serious; I'm not writing this to bump up the word count. Please be up front and honest about it; more of these will definitely show up and I don't want to completely ruin those moments down the line._

_Thanks, guys. Love you all!_


	5. Turning Point

_Okay, new characters being introduced today, and a major one in the beginning! And if you know me well enough, I'm sure you can come up with a few guesses for who it is._

_I've nothing else to say other than the plot is moving forward to a critical point now; please enjoy the chapter, everyone!_

**Ch. 4: Turning Point**

**Saïx**

"Curses!" Saïx punched the plaster wall in his private office in frustration as he paused in his pacing to lose the steam. "That wretched girl…she's ruined everything! Everything that I've been working for through the years!"

A soldier perched at the other side of his desk picked up a stray pen that had been lying around, and twirled it in his fingers idly as he watched the overseer pace back and forth in anger. He had a gray camouflage cap on his head that went with his uniform under which his hair was tucked in, which shadowed most of his face in the brightly lit chamber. But he could still be seen smirking under the brim, like the sight of the agitated man amused him.

"Calm down, Saïx," he drawled, raising his hand to watch the pen twirl in his hand. "It's not like everything's been ruined. And besides, you can't afford to have Xehanort catch you with your temper flared, am I right?"

"Silence, you ingrate! This is no laughing matter!" Saïx punched the table in anger. "We've let her make a fool out of us; she's taken our most valuable hostages! And they've subdued a good third of our forces! A mere human girl and those good-for-nothing –"

"Point?" the soldier interrupted, unfazed, as he set the pen back down and stood. "We just need to go find her and get them back, put them under supervised lockdown, and kill the girl. Simple as that. Don't get your hair in a knot."

Saïx wanted to launch into a full tirade at the nonchalant soldier seated in front of him, but he held his tongue at the last moment. As much as he hated to admit, the soldier was right about one thing – he couldn't afford to lose his temper so easily in case the old dictator was listening in. Then he would lose more than his dream.

He had to admit one other thing to himself – this soldier made him wary. He had come up to him the day that Saïx had been instated as the main overseer of the containment cells, offering his services and assistance in overthrowing Xehanort.

"The old man's been doing a terrible job with ruling Bellone," he'd told him. "I feel like you could do a much better job, what with everything you have planned for this country."

To this day, he still didn't know his supposed ally's name ("Can't have you ratting me out in the case of a coup, no? If this goes down the drain, I sure as hell won't be going down with you."), but he needed all the help he could get, even though he didn't like thinking about the man whenever he could avoid it.

But there was a more pressing matter at hand.

"Alright," he said in a carefully steady voice. "Let's take this step by step. First, we need to get those hostages back. We can send scouts after them –"

"Aww, you don't trust me?" the soldier laughed, turning to face him. "I'm hurt, Saïx."

"Don't get high and mighty with me, _O Branded One_," Saïx said, the last words coming out as a taunt despite himself. "You are obviously the one who does not have faith. Don't underestimate the rest of the soldier body."

"Heh, you said it, not me," the soldier teased with a lilt in his tone.

This man was ridiculously and unnecessarily difficult to deal with. Saïx began to wonder why he'd agreed to take him as an ally in the first place.

"Do not mock me," he said flatly, as he turned away so he wouldn't have to look at the soldier's patronizing expression. "Just send the search party out. I can't have you dying on me before my goal is reached."

"You're one sour cookie, you know that?" the soldier sighed, scratching his cap. "Well, fine; whatever. Fine with anybody from the S-class?"

"It doesn't matter to me, as long as the pyro-soldier is included," Saïx said firmly. "He will be a perfect asset to the search party in the event that the escapees are cornered. The Outsider boy will be putty in that man's hands."

"So he's the priority?" the soldier asked for confirmation, his interest piqued for the first time this conversation. "What about the other kid?"

"I don't care what happens to him," Saïx snapped, his patience waning again. "As long as he's back in that cell to rot. He could die for all I care. Just don't harm the Outsider!"

The soldier raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright; gotcha. I'll send out the search party at the crack of dawn."

Saïx felt his eyes widen in incredulity. "Dawn? Are you mad? We'll lose them!"

"Seriously, just _relax_, Sir Uptight," the soldier groaned, sounding somewhat annoyed this time. "Those guys aren't called the search party for nothing. And it's three in the morning; no one's gonna be alert enough for a search this big if we send them out now – not even these so-called _super-soldiers_. Put a cork in that temper of yours and try to think straight like you're supposed to be doing! Being frazzled is the last thing you want in a situation like this one."

Saïx was silent for a moment as he took in the rebuttal, and merely said shortly, "Fine. You're dismissed. Don't ruin this operation, or else."

The soldier stretched then grinned amusedly at the overseer. "Sir, yes sir," he said in a mocking tone. "But the only one that'll get his ass bitten here is you." He raised his cap slightly, so the dark patch of cloth over the left side of his head was visible for just a moment. "I _sincerely_ hope for your sake that we don't fail this mission, Saïx."

The soldier then turned on his heels and exited through the wooden door. Saïx continued staring at the door through which the soldier had left, consumed by an unsettling thought.

_That man_, he thought to himself. _There's something about him that deeply disturbs me._

* * *

**Naminé**

My decision to save the soldier hadn't been entirely popular. I'd hoped that Riku at the very least would've understood my decision, having been an ex-soldier and all, but he was probably the one most angered by my choice. I didn't like it when Riku was angry, but I managed to stand my ground on this issue, because I was sure I had done the right thing, even if this once. I would just have to hope that he would be able to see my reason in that.

My parents and younger sister were tending to the unconscious boy in the living room as I was arguing with Riku.

"What were you thinking, bringing him here like that?!" he demanded sharply. "I thought you'd know better once you saw what he was wearing!"

"I did!" I retorted, doing my best to glare at him without losing ground. "But I couldn't leave him there to die! If I had, then I'm no better than those super-soldiers! I don't want to be put on the same level as them!"

"Naminé –"

"No, listen to me, Riku," I cut in heatedly. "You told me yourself that these soldiers were forcibly drafted into Xehanort's service. Doesn't that mean there's a possibility that some of these soldiers aren't truly loyal to him? You told me that they were forced into the army, without any other choice! Not unless they wanted to die in consequence! And this soldier might be one of them!"

Riku's cyan eyes were hard. "And what if it turns out he isn't, Naminé?" he countered harshly. "What will you do then?"

"If it does turn out that way, then you can do whatever you want," I said icily. "I only saved him because he didn't do anything to me or you or anyone else here, and it was the right thing to do. But if he ends up turning his back on us and betraying us, I don't care what happens to him then."

Riku stared at me shrewdly, as if he was trying look for any hint of hesitation in my tone or expression. But I had none – I didn't regret what I'd done, and I'd already come to terms with the fact that if this soldier ended up turning on us, I'd take the fall for it. He could glare at me all he wanted; I wasn't going to regret a thing.

I didn't know how much time had passed, but eventually Riku backed off by way of a sigh. "Whatever you say, Naminé. I just hope you know what you're doing."

"Well, we'll know eventually, won't we?" I pointed out. "Once he feels well enough to wake up, then we'll know whether I made a mistake or not."

"You don't sound too worried."

"Why should I be?" I grinned in spite of myself. "It feels good, saving someone's life." My eyes then flicked back down to the worn carpet of my home. "I wonder if Roxas ever felt that way after saving me."

"Who knows," Riku said with a shrug. "We may never know now, even after we save him."

"But…isn't there a way for him to get his memory back?" I asked, feeling concerned. "I mean, he must be terrified, not knowing who he is or anything about himself…he doesn't even know that he's an…"

Riku crossed his arms and shook his head. "I know. Honestly, though – at this point in time, do you think that'd be a good idea? Roxas has been through a lot…he's been through hell and back. I don't know if he'd want to remember that right off the bat."

I frowned. Riku did have a point. The brain blocked certain traumatic memories if only to preserve our sanity, but how much would Roxas have left after ten years of torment? He was right; trying to get his memory back so soon after saving him wouldn't be such a good idea.

"Then…we'll just have to take baby steps, right?" I suggested. "Get him used to being outside, get a feel of the world right now, because it's changed since he was imprisoned. Then we can work on it…little by little."

Riku grinned at that. "Looks like you're getting the hang of things."

"It's only because I have such a great teacher," I teased, smiling back.

"Very funny."

Right then my mother came into my bedroom, where Riku and I had been talking, looking somewhat flushed but otherwise okay.

"Done sorting things out?" she asked me, switching her gaze from me to Riku.

"Just about," I assured her. "How's the soldier?"

"He's stable, but still in critical condition," she answered with a sigh. "These Branded soldiers…they're extremely resilient. This one's no different."

"Do you think he'll need a doctor?"

"Possibly, but it's too soon to tell. All I can say is that he won't be waking up anytime soon. Even for a Branded soldier, those wounds are pretty severe." She pulled off the bloodstained latex gloves that she'd used to treat the injuries, brushed her long hair back, and tucked the lock behind her ear, looking flustered. "I spent a good two hours just cleaning up and bandaging his wounds. His abdomen needs stitching, though; it's been ripped clean open. A simple gauze won't be fixing that."

"I'm just glad you agreed to treat him so easily," I said. "I couldn't imagine if you'd turned him away –"

"Don't be silly!" My mother tousled my hair playfully. "He was just someone in desperate need of help, enemy or not. I couldn't ignore that, could I? That wouldn't have been very nice."

I smiled brightly at her. I couldn't have asked for a better mother. She was kind and understanding – everything a mother should be.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," I heard Riku say, prompting both of us to face him. He was looking indignant. "Don't we have a mission to carry out? We need to move out in, like, _now_. We need to rendezvous with Squall and Yuffie at the outskirts of the castle. They're probably there already."

My heart sank. I was so preoccupied with the soldier's welfare that I'd almost forgotten about this rescue mission. I hoped that we hadn't wasted too much of our valuable time. The longer we took, the longer Roxas was trapped in that awful place.

"What do we do?" I fretted in worry. "We can't leave that soldier here alone."

"Don't worry," a new voice cut in. I saw my father striding into my room, already in his battle gear. "Your sister will stay here and watch him. And I'll call in old man Cid, too – that way, neither of them will be alone."

Okay, that was something, but I wasn't completely at ease. Cid was an old friend of my father's – they'd met a long time ago, before I was even born, and they'd managed to keep their friendship alive to this day. That man was definitely not one to worry about, even in this day and age. But my sister…

"Xion will be just fine," my mother said, breaking me out of my thoughts as if she'd read them. "Nothing bad will happen with Cid around. And besides, your sister is the only one staying behind who can take care of him properly. She is training to be a nurse, after all."

"I know, but –"

"Oh, stop worrying about her, Naminé; she'll be fine," Riku agreed with her. "You know Xion – she's perfectly capable of defending herself in her own way in the event that something bad happens."

I sighed and brushed the hair out of my face. I wouldn't be winning this argument either way, and I couldn't afford to waste any more time.

"Okay," I surrendered. "Let's head out now before they get impatient. What does your inside source say, Riku? Is everything all set up inside as well?"

Riku gave a thumbs-up. "All primed and ready to blow."

"Alright." I took in a huge breath. "Let's go."

* * *

"Sheesh, where were you?!" Yuffie huffed indignantly with her hands on her hips as our group approached the outskirts of the fortress. "We've been waiting for ages!"

Yuffie Kisaragi was a friend of my mother's from their childhood. They were close enough to be sisters. She was a self-proclaimed ninja warrior that wielded giant shuriken – or in other words, throwing stars. Her self-given title of "Great Ninja Yuffie" actually held some truth to it, because she really was good with the weapons. (I learned that the hard way.) She usually wore skimpy clothing so she could move around easily and silently, but the colors were so flashy she might as well have not bothered. And she hated being called old – you could tell that by listening to her talk. As you can probably tell from this, she was pretty impatient, too.

"Yuffie, we've only been here five minutes," her companion Squall reminded her in a weary tone. "We're the ones that are late, not them."

Squall Leonhart was a friend that my parents had met through Yuffie. I didn't know him too well, since I'd only ever spoken to him a few times, but I felt that he was a lot like my father – soft-spoken, patient, and extremely competent in combat. He even had his own custom sword that he'd dubbed Gunblade (the name was misleading, since the sword didn't actually shoot any bullets – that would actually be pretty inconvenient), which he'd named because it looked like, well, a gun. Not terribly original, but terribly effective when he deployed it – he was almost as good as my father. Almost.

I was glad that they were here to help us out. They really weren't as prejudiced as most of the people in the southern half of Bellone against the Outsiders. I wasn't aware of the details, but it was for them to share. I had no business prying. I was still thankful, anyhow.

"We're sorry," I apologized as we joined them. "Something happened that needed our attention, but we're here now."

I could see Yuffie pouting in the waning light of the sun. "Still, you could've called ahead, you know!"

"Yuffie, now really isn't the time," Squall placated her. "They're here now; let's get on with the mission."

Yuffie sighed in exasperation. "Fine," she grumped. She turned to Riku. "So, how are things on the inside?"

"Everything is ready. It's set to go off in about…" Riku pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it. "…Oh, great timing. It's gonna go off in about –"

_BOOM!_

"– er, now," he finished in the midst of the rumbling of the building and the wailing alarms from the fortress. "Okay, clock's ticking. Everyone knows what to do, right?"

Everyone nodded.

"All right," Riku declared with a grin, "let's do this!"

We split off in different groups as we charged into the fortress – Leon and Yuffie headed to the barracks of the soldiers over on the west side of the castle, where they would distract any soldiers who were loitering there. The rest of us went straight through the main gate that had been demolished in the blast, but my parents and Riku branched off and broke apart as an onslaught of soldiers began to bear down on us from every door and hallway.

"Naminé!" Riku shouted above the cacophony as we were surrounded by the enemies. "Don't forget – don't waste your time worrying about us! Focus on getting to the cells! It's right ahead!"

"I know!" I called back, hoping he'd hear. "You just stay safe so I won't have to worry!"

"Duly noted!" Riku head-locked one soldier and slammed him into the nearest wall as he answered. "We'll be fine; we've been training for this mission for the past ten years! Quick; get out of here!"

"Got it!" I grabbed a random soldier's wrist and used him as a battering ram to an incoming wave of others, and started running once I'd tossed him. "Rendezvous at the storage chamber near the barracks! You remember how to get there, right?"

"Of course I do; I dug that tunnel myself! Get going!"

Wasting no more time with words, I made a mad dash through the corridor, dodging and incapacitating any soldiers that got in my way. As I was leaving, I heard an unfamiliar voice call out above the noise, "You've got some serious balls coming back here, you fucking son of a bitch! I'll rip out your spine if it's the last thing I do!"

"What, to replace the one you lost when Xehanort came breathing down your neck?" I heard Riku taunt, his voice muffled now that I was getting farther. "Go ahead and try!"

His adversary's next words were lost now in the din, as the building was still crumbling in several places, the alarms were still wailing "_HOSTILE ASSAULT. HOSTILE ASSAULT. INITIATE IMMEDIATE EMERGENCY PROCEDURE…_" in a monotone voice over and over, and there were quite a few fires here and there.

The incomprehensible shouting of the soldiers as they rushed at me in all directions also didn't help my concentration, but I eventually came across a flight of stairs leading underground that I recognized as the path down to the cells where Roxas was supposed to be. I rushed down it, opened the door as quickly as I could and slammed it shut (it wasn't easy; the door was much heavier than it looked), and locked it from the inside. I could hear the pounding of the soldiers' fists on the metal door, but I already knew that even their superhuman strength couldn't break through this. They wouldn't have wanted anyone coming down here without supervision, because there was an infinitesimal chance that a breakout could occur. And with an extremely valuable prisoner in here, they wouldn't risk that. It did make me question why I'd found the door to the cells ajar, but I went with the guess that whoever was down here had rushed out once the explosions had occurred, and neglected to shut the door properly. I had a lock opener specially designed for that door (courtesy of Cid, who also happened to be a mechanic) since we'd all figured that it'd be locked, but I guess I was lucky that I didn't have to use it. I could set this aside until a time came when I needed it. I still had another lock opener with me that could open any generic lock – namely, the ones keeping the prisoners locked up. That was the one I was going to use on Roxas's cell once I came across it.

In the fervor of escaping from my pursuers, I hadn't taken into account the details of my surroundings. I tried getting a proper look around, but the huge chamber was dimly lit, and I could only see rows and rows of jail cells, rising straight to the ceiling. Some were occupied, most weren't. The ones that were occupied housed gaunt, sickly looking people – most likely the civilians that Xehanort's men had kidnapped and experimented on over the years. I tried to avoid making eye contact with the scarecrow-like prisoners as I skimmed the contents of the immediate cells, but Roxas wasn't in any of the ones I could see from where I was. I realized that I had to go deeper, and trepidation gripped me as I once again raked my eyes over the countless jail cells. I was pressed for time, and I didn't know which cell Roxas was in. This place wasn't going to go unsupervised for much longer.

I contemplated calling out his name, but I wasn't sure that would work. Would Roxas recognize his own name by this point? And even if he could, would he hear me at all in this vast underground chamber? I felt ridiculously small and insignificant here.

I shook my head and tried to chase those thoughts away, with moderate success. It would definitely take some time, but I wasn't about to let that stop me from holding onto this once-in-a-lifetime chance.

Clutching the lock breaker tightly in my hand, I raced down the bottom row of cells, checking each one. My heart felt like it was about to burst from the strain, since I'd done almost nothing but run since the fortress blew up, but I didn't stop. I couldn't rest until I saw Roxas.

I was just about to reach the end of the first row, and I still couldn't see anything in the end cells. Figuring that it couldn't hurt to check behind the last couple bars, I slowed down by the time I reached them in order to get a better look before moving on. I peered into the second to last cell, and I saw a pair of the very same set of blue eyes I'd seen over a decade ago.

I didn't know what to think. I couldn't believe it. I'd found him; I'd actually found Roxas. All the wishing and hoping that I'd done – if only I could see him again – felt like flimsy fantasies now as I stared into his eyes.

I almost couldn't look at anything else, but I was soon able to take in the rest of his appearance. His skin was chalk-white – it looked even worse in the light of the lamp hanging above him. He had dark circles under his eyes; his arms, hands, face, and neck were riddled with both faded and fresh scars and bruises. He was just several pounds shy of looking like a human scarecrow. His blonde hair was dirty and practically plastered onto his scalp by the grease. His thin cotton shirt was tattered, torn, and matted with grease, dirt, and blood; and his jeans weren't in much better condition. He had boots on – the same ones the soldiers wore – but they were worn and holey. He was sitting on a cot of some sort, curled in on himself and with his hands over his ears, like he'd been trying to block out something he didn't want to hear, but he lowered his hands and raised his head in full once he laid eyes on me.

We stared at each other for countless seconds, neither of us speaking. Roxas had a peculiar expression on his face – it looked like he was looking at something that he should've remembered seeing before, but was unable to attach any sort of name or memory to it. There was awe and wonderment mixed with tension and apprehension in his expression, and I didn't know whether I should feel elated or crushed at seeing him looking at me that way. What was worse, he actually looked wary underneath that curiosity. That was to be expected, but I felt crushed anyway. I felt tears running down my face, but I wasn't sure for which of the reasons.

A loud pounding on the chamber's door made me flinch and brought me back to reality, reminding me that I was on a time limit. I was running dangerously low on time, and I'd wasted it by ogling at the person I was supposed to save. I cleared my throat as I reorganized my thoughts, and finally spoke to him for the first time in a decade.

"Roxas," I managed to say, my voice unsurprisingly choked up. "It's me. Naminé."

* * *

**Roxas**

_She's here_, I thought, hardly daring to believe it. _This girl…she really did come back…_

I never thought that I'd ever be able to see her in person. She looked even more stunning real life and up close – that poster of her hadn't done her justice. She was tall, and blonde like me other than a lighter hue. She had pale blue eyes, and she was practically penetrating me with her stare, filled with both relief and sadness, though I couldn't understand why. She was wearing dark clothing along with brown boots and black gloves that fit snugly on her, but wasn't too revealing. There was a strange object clenched in her right hand. Her skin was pale like in the picture, but there was a bit of color to it in person. She was so different from what I'd imagined that it almost felt like the poster had deliberately lied to me.

I had been so distracted by the sight of her that I almost didn't register what she'd just said about saving me. It took me a second, but I managed to respond to her words the only way I could think of.

"I…I know you," I ventured cautiously, to which she flinched slightly. "You're that girl who tried getting in here last time…right?"

The girl looked like she was about to cry, which I couldn't understand, but she held herself and nodded. "Yes," she said softly. "That was me."

"Did you come here for me?"

She nodded again, biting her lip as she raised the strange object in her hand and stepped forward to the locked door. "I can use this to break your lock," she explained, her voice shaking a little. "I already have an escape route ready. All we have to do is – is to make a run for it once I open the door, but we have to hurry before the soldiers manage to get in here."

I stared at the object in her hand. This thing could break the lock on my door? Then I'd be able to leave this place with her, and never have to come back? Never have to worry about the soldiers verbally abusing me, or having to go into that scary room where that scarred man always came to do horrible things to me? Nor the one who visited here regularly, to see the only companion I had here? I wouldn't have to deal with that anymore? It seemed too good to be true.

Just then I remembered – the only friend I'd had down here in this hell, the one who had kept me from going completely insane…I couldn't just leave him. Especially with the way he was now. I didn't want to ask too much of the girl (I think she had said her name was Naminé) when she'd come all this way and gone through so much to find me here and get me out, but leaving the only friend I had made here at the mercy of these awful people…I'd never be able to get rid of the ensuing regret.

"W-wait!" I cried urgently before she could use it on my lock. "I know you came here to save me, but…please, help my friend, too!"

The girl paused. She looked at me in confusion for a moment, and then she asked uncertainly, "Your…friend?"

"He's in the cell to my left," I said quickly.

At my urging, I got her to look in the cell that held my neighbor. I could see her face blanch briefly at what she was looking at, and I felt my stomach tie in a knot. He must've looked much worse than he had sounded.

"He – he's…" She couldn't get any comprehensible word out, but I got the general gist of what she was thinking. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Something is wrong with him," I explained carefully as she looked to me again, "but I don't know what…he's been in a lot of pain, and it's only getting worse now. He's the only reason I haven't gone crazy here…I can't leave him behind. Please, if it's possible…help him first."

The girl looked torn. She stared at the object in her hand, and then back to me, her eyes frantic. I could tell she was thinking seriously about something, and I hoped that her thoughts were going in the direction that I wanted.

I'm going to be honest here…I didn't completely trust her. All I knew about her was that she had come here once before to get me out, but then what? What was going to happen to me once she _did _break me out? I still remembered that weird dream I had, where I'd seen this very same person calling herself my friend. I wanted to trust her, but my paranoia was overpowering that desire. What if this image of her was a thin veneer hiding something much worse underneath?

"I – I don't know," she said, sounding nervous. "I didn't plan on having to save someone other than you…and he's unconscious, too…"

"I'll carry him," I insisted. I could hear the desperation in my own voice. I didn't know how I was going to do that without hurting myself, but I was ready to take the risk…if she agreed. "Please…you've got to take him, too. I can't leave him like this; it wouldn't be right!"

She observed me for a second, taking in my words, tone, and expression. I hoped against everything that she would agree. If she really did have ill intentions, she would insist on leaving him here and have me come with her alone. That would be a red flag for me to refuse to go with her. But if she was saving me for the sake of saving me, then she wouldn't turn down this request.

After another moment, she blinked and straightened, as if an idea had come to her. I waited for her answer with bated breath.

"Are you sure you can carry him?" she asked me, her eyes flashing with newfound determination. "I think I'll be able to break him out too, but we'll have to move fast. We're going to be walking a long way, and we can't stop to rest."

"Yes," I said immediately. "I can do it." I silently and fervently thanked Fortune above and below as I answered her. I knew for sure now that this was someone I could trust.

"Okay," she said, putting away the first one in a pocket and pulling out a second, similar yet more intricate object out of another one. "I was originally going to use this on the main chamber door, but it was unlocked. It's safer for me to use it on your door, so move back a bit. There's going to be a bit of ricochet to this."

I did as she told me and pressed myself against the back wall. She pushed it against the lock, and there was a loud popping sound as the lock flew apart, a piece just barely missing my left cheek. The strange object in her hands crumbled away piece by piece at that exact moment. She didn't give that phenomenon a second thought as she wrenched the door open and waved me out.

As I stepped out of my prison for the first time, I caught a glimpse of the latch. It was just a twisted and sharp length of metal now.

Ignoring that, we immediately moved on to the next cell. The girl pulled out the first object again and pressed it against the lock. This time it broke away cleanly with no ricocheting pieces of metal, and she yanked the door open as well.

"Hurry and take him," she told me urgently as she stared back down the chamber apprehensively. "We've wasted too much time in here."

I stepped into the cell and got the first glimpse of the stranger I'd been speaking to for the past several years, and what I saw made my breath catch somewhere in my throat.

He looked exactly like the solider that had come here routinely to visit him. Maybe slightly younger, and with lighter-looking hair, but still – the similarities were staggering. It was almost like the two of them were twins. He was still on the cold floor and trembling, as if he was still in pain. He was curled into the fetal position that way, hugging himself in a way so that I couldn't see his face, as if to protect himself from all outside influences. He was covered in nicks and scratches, and blots of blood were on his clothing, too.

I didn't waste my time ogling at him, though. I strode over to him without hesitation and scooped him up in my arms. He was actually much lighter than I had anticipated – he was almost in worse condition than I was, and I'd been here much longer. This seriously concerned me – what could have been happening to him this whole time that I wasn't aware of?

I turned to Naminé (I started to feel uncomfortable not using her name right after she'd told me) and noticed the apprehension in her eyes as she watched me hold him. I wasn't sure why she was looking at him that way, but the look vanished from her face before I could ponder any further.

"We should go," she said abruptly, heading back to the chamber entrance and beckoning me to follow. "The escape vehicle should be ready and on standby right now."

_Escape vehicle?_ I thought in confusion.

I shook that thought away as another came to mind. "Why are we going back the way we came?" I asked. "I mean, that door is…"

"We're not going back through the door," she clarified with a small smile. "I told you; I already have an escape route ready. Just follow my lead." Her gaze flicked to the boy in my arms and added, "You should hold him more comfortably, since we'll be going through a small tunnel. Put him on your back."

"Um…" I looked down at him uncertainly. I could feel my eyebrows knit together as confusion swept over me. "Uh, how do I do that?"

Naminé allowed a small giggle at that. She was cute when she laughed. "Here, I'll help you," she offered. "Kneel down."

I obliged, and she carefully eased him out of my arms, and gently slung him on my back so that his arms hung over my shoulders and his head rested on the nape of my neck.

"Okay, now put your hands under his knees," she instructed me as she guided my hands where they were supposed to go. "Now stand up." Her touch was so warm and gentle, I was almost disappointed when she let go once I was back on my feet.

"More comfortable?" she asked me as she stepped back.

I nodded as I hefted his weight. "Um, yes. Thank you."

She smiled again, and then urged me to follow her to the end of the chamber. I held my breath as we passed that huge metal door, the sound of the shouting and yelling and banging extra-loud in my ears. We rounded a corner leading deeper into the chamber, where a cluster of crates were stacked against one wall. They must've been lighter than they looked, because Naminé simply pushed the boxes aside, causing them to crash to the floor. It revealed a hole large enough for a pair of people to just barely walk through. The tunnel didn't have any sort of lighting that I could see. Were we just going to feel our way?

I got my answer when she reached into the pouch hanging from her belt and pulled out a small, thin metal object. She clicked a button, and one end lit up with a bright white light – a flashlight, if I remembered right.

I suppressed a sigh of relief. At least it wasn't fire.

"Quick, this way," she urged me ahead. I slipped into the tunnel, and Naminé started restacking the crates so that the hole was hidden again. The only source of light was her flashlight.

The tunnel was low enough that she had to stoop slightly, but I had no problem since I was already weighed down by the unconscious person on my back. She caught up to me quickly, and we started walking in silence.

I'll have to admit…it was pretty awkward being alone with her like this. I still couldn't get over the nagging feeling that I knew her from somewhere. I mean, she wouldn't have decided to rescue me without knowing who I was, at the very least. But that was all I felt – I felt no good or bad vibes along with that hunch, so I couldn't properly judge.

_I wonder if she knows who I am_, I thought as we crept along. _Maybe I should ask her…_

"Roxas?"

I looked up in surprise, not having expected her to speak up. Her back was still facing me, but she kept walking as she spoke.

"Roxas," she repeated, her voice quiet. "Do you…do you know who I am?"

"What?" I caught myself. "I don't – Well, I mean – um, I – I was going to ask you the same thing. About me."

"Oh." She was quiet for several more paces before saying, "Well…you're my friend. That's why I came here to find you."

"For…for how long? Since when?"

"I don't know…it's been years. You weren't my friend for very long, but…I still remember all the fun we had…" She stopped talking here for a moment, her voice cracking briefly before going on, "But then…these horrible people took you away, and I didn't know what to do. I don't know what they did to you here…but it must've been awful things."

I was silent, my eyes downcast. I remembered, all right; what they did to me…it made me wish my memory had blanked out in those moments instead of other places. Knives, needles, spikes, and fire – that _God-awful fire_…

"Awful," I muttered softly, "is a mild way of putting it."

I must've been putting out some strong negative vibes, because she then came back with, "Sorry, I…didn't mean to bring that up. I'm sure you don't want to remember things like that."

I didn't answer her. Of course I didn't want to be reminded of those things, but it wasn't like she knew any better. And that in itself was also for the better. No one should have to suffer through that knowledge.

"It's okay," I said, barely believing it myself. "You didn't know."

"I know, but…"

"Really, don't worry about it." The words came out quicker than I'd meant, but I couldn't help it. I didn't want to talk about this anymore; she was just prolonging it by feeling guilty. "It's fine."

She probably sensed that this conversation was coming to an end, because she changed tack in response. "We're getting close to the end now," she informed me, staring straight ahead. "Are you still feeling alright?"

I hadn't noticed before, but now that she brought it up, I felt strangely tired. It was probably the result of me being near-emaciated and holding up another person my size, but the issue wasn't entirely physical. It was both strangely easy and strangely difficult to converse with Naminé – she'd saved me and my constant support through everything I had to suffer while trapped, but I still felt that awkward sensation – the feeling that I should definitely know her, but the memories to go with it weren't there. It was ridiculously frustrating, so much so that I hadn't realized how much it had been sapping my energy from me thinking about it.

And of course…this was the first exposure I've ever had to a girl, retrospectively speaking. The awkwardness points just shoot up from there.

"Yeah, just…feeling a bit tired," I answered her, hefting my friend's weight as I added, "And kind of hot."

She looked back at me with a stunned look on her face, just barely illuminated by the flashlight.

"Hot?" she repeated, sounding surprised. "That's odd…we're not that deep underground so it should be cool down here…"

In the waking silence, I suddenly noticed something odd – that very silence. It took me a moment to place, but then I started feeling a bead of sweat trickle down my neck – and it wasn't coming from me.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Oh no," I breathed out loud, cursing internally.

"What is it?" Naminé asked urgently, stopping too. "Roxas?"

"I….I think he's got a fever." Despite the heat, I felt something cold working down to the pits of my stomach. "A huge one."

I wanted to hit myself. How could I have not noticed this earlier? This was the very first thing that this guy had taught me about – one time about a year back, I'd felt woozy, weak, and overall felt like fire was trapped somewhere in my body. I'd talked to him about it (it was bad enough that I was just barely capable of coherent thought), and he'd labeled it as a 'fever'. He'd told me that it wasn't dangerous; it would wear off in a couple days, so I didn't need to worry too much about it.

I couldn't believe it. It was the very first thing he'd taught me to notice, and it had completely slipped by me! I should've noticed when he'd suddenly stopped moaning unconsciously!

Naminé looked alarmed at my news. "A fever?" she gasped, hurrying over to me and placing a hand on his forehead. She pulled back after barely half a second.

"He's covered in sweat," she told me, her voice tinged in worry. "This is bad…he needs to see a doctor as soon as possible."

"A doctor?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.

"They help sick people get better," she explained hastily as she started to move forward again at a much faster pace. "If he doesn't see a doctor, he's in big trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" I asked urgently as I jogged rather awkwardly to catch up to her.

It took a minute for her to answer. "The 'he'll never wake up again' kind of trouble," she said at last as we reached the end of the tunnel. It was a dead end by all appearances, but then she pulled out a pair of rough-looking gloves and what looked like a miniature shovel, and started digging and brushing the dirt away, revealing something smooth and gray underneath the layer of damp earth.

As she worked on that, my thoughts went into overdrive at what she'd just told me. _Fevers can kill people?_ I thought wildly. _He never said anything about that!_ Had he avoided telling me that on purpose in order to reassure me?

If that was true, then how many things that he'd told me about before were actually lies or half-truths? I didn't want to think about the possibility, but my mind rebelled. I started feeling sick again.

"There!" I heard Naminé exclaim, bringing me out of my thoughts. I noticed that a big metal door had been behind the dirt. It was thankfully big enough for me to walk through without having to put him down, though the heat was getting bad enough that I was pretty uncomfortable with the amount of moisture accumulating on my back.

"Riku never ceases to amaze me," she said in relief. "Come on, let's go. Your friend needs help _now_."

She pushed on the door, and it swung open surprisingly easily.

I wasn't prepared for the light waiting behind it, though.

It was instantaneous, intense, and nearly incapacitating – the abrupt change of the amount of light briefly blinded me and made my temples throb in protest. I cried out in surprise and wished that I had a free arm to throw over my face to shield my eyes.

"It's okay, Roxas," Naminé assured me from somewhere to my right (I still couldn't see in front of me). "You can open your eyes; it's only the fluorescent light."

Wait, _what_ light?

And okay, I didn't really go blind; I just closed my eyes. But it may as well have blinded me anyway, because the pain in my temples still lingered.

I wanted to open my eyes, but my eyelids wouldn't move. My instintcs were still reflexively blocking out the excess light.

"Uh…" I shook my head, feeling a bit self-conscious. "I can't. My eyes won't open."

Naminé laughed again in a semi-embarrassed way. "Oh, sorry…I should've expected as much," she confessed. "Hold on a minute. I might have something that can help you with that…"

It was quiet as I waited. I could hear some far-off voices and more clamoring – probably from the other side of this hole – and I started wonder what exactly was going on outside for it to make so much noise.

"Shoot," I heard her mutter under her breath some time later. "I was sure I had something…"

I could almost feel my heart plummet in disappointment when I heard those words. Oh, perfect. I was going to walk this blind for a while, wasn't I?

"Don't worry; you won't be blinded for long," she assured me as soon as that thought popped into my head. Wow, I guess my expression was either that obvious, or she could read minds. I hoped it was the former. "Your eyes will get used to the light eventually. Just try to avoid looking at the light directly."

I nodded uncertainly. "Um, okay."

Sounded farfetched to me, but it was all the advice I had.

"Here, I'll lead you," she offered. I felt the touch of her hand on my shoulder, and gently pushed me forward.

"Careful, there are stairs here," she warned me after a moment as my foot hit an elevated surface. "Don't worry; I won't let you fall. Just work on getting your eyes used to the light, because it's even brighter outside."

The outside was even brighter than this light? I wasn't so sure I wanted to go out there anymore.

But she was right about one thing – my eyes eventually stopped stinging enough for me to open them gradually. At first, everything was a blur of white and misshapen colors, but I blinked a couple times and the colors became more focused. Intrigued by this, I blinked some more the same way I'd done before, and all of a sudden I could see again. We were nearly at the top of the stairs.

"Great, your eyes are open!" Naminé said brightly, turning as she noticed me. "Can you see okay?"

I nodded once and stared down at my boots, my face hot. "Yeah. Thanks." Man…talking to her was _weird_. I don't know why, but it was. I kind of wished my friend was awake right now so I wouldn't have to be alone with her. I almost forgot about his fever.

"Come on, let's hurry," she urged me. Even though I could see now, she continued pushing me along until we reached the top. We were in some kind of long room, with gray walls and stacks of boxes lining them. We were standing in the middle of a towering square ring of boxes. There were bright lights lining the ceiling (Naminé had called them…something. I couldn't remember; it was a complicated-sounding word.), and as we stepped out into the open, I saw that at one end of the room there was a…

"That's our escape vehicle," she answered my unspoken question. "That's how we'll get out of here. It's a modified car."

So _that_ was what an escape vehicle looked like. A giant black metal box-thing with big wheels. I didn't know what a car was, either, but I guess it looked like this – only less complicated.

"Now we just have to wait until Riku shows up," she said as we neared the escape vehicle. "He should've been here already; we were running pretty late…"

"Who's Riku?" I asked. She'd mentioned that name before.

"He's a friend of mine," she answered me as she stared across the room to the other end. "He helped me break in and find you. He dug that tunnel we were just in, too."

I was in awe as I listened to this. Whoever this Riku person was, I was going to have to thank him later for all the effort he put into helping me escape.

"He's an amazing person to do all this," I said.

"He is."

She didn't say anything more than that, and we waited in silence for what felt like ages. Then –

"Naminé!"

We both looked up to see a tall man with long silver hair run toward us from the same pile of boxes from which we'd emerged. He was wearing dark clothes like Naminé, only his pants were kind of baggy and he had a vest with a lot of pockets in the front. His eyes were a startling shade of light blue. He had a couple bruises on his arms and he was bleeding slightly from the mouth.

"Riku!" she called out in relief. She didn't look too worried about his condition, though. "I was starting to get worried! What kept you?"

"Friendship feud," he answered her, hastily wiping the blood off his chin. "It's a long story. I'm glad you managed to get here on time, though." He looked at me for the first time since he'd run in here, and gave me what I assumed to be an appraising look. I felt like I was being X-rayed (oh God, that experience had been absolutely horrible back there), and he surveyed my friend as he spoke.

"So, you're Roxas, huh?" he asked. "The name's Riku. I'd shake hands, but I can see yours are full." He turned back to Naminé. "Who's the other kid?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "But Roxas wouldn't leave him behind. So I used the lock breaker I was supposed to use on his door for the other one. I think," she ventured on, "he might be the reason that soldier we saved is working for Xehanort."

"Well, if that's the case, then that would explain a lot of things…" he mumbled to himself, but then abruptly interrupted himself in incredulity. "Whoa, wait a minute! Then how'd you get Roxas out?"

"I used the one meant for the door to the chamber. That door was already open when I got there."

Riku shook his head in disbelief. "And after all the work Cid put into that…"

"Hey, at least we still used it," Naminé retorted in defense. "In any case, let's worry about all this later. He's got a really bad fever, and he needs help. He'll die if we don't do anything!"

"Honestly, Naminé, _what_ is it with you and picking up strays like this?" he sighed. "But you're right; we can talk about this later. We need to get out of here. That kid isn't the only one who needs help."

I saw Naminé blanch at those words. "Did somebody else get hurt?" she asked, sounding nervous.

Riku didn't answer her, and instead walked to the right side of the vehicle and opened the door in front. "Get in," he instructed her as he slung himself in. "Get Roxas and the other one comfortable. It's going to be a rough ride."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Naminé did as she was told without argument, as if she'd decided that they could argue about this later as soon as they were out of danger. She opened the door right behind Riku's and waved me over. It was a bit of work getting my friend in a comfortable position in the back seat, but we managed to lay him down along the back so that his head was on my lap. Naminé was to sit in the front next to Riku.

Sitting like this helped me notice new details about his face – it was shining thanks to the sweat, and his caramel hair looked darker and more matted from the moisture as well. He was still burning up (I was afraid I'd get a minor burn just from prolonged exposure to his feverish skin), his clothes were damp, and his breaths were short. He was obviously not doing so well, because he'd told me that when a fever gets bad, the person afflicted usually mumbled nonsensical things until the temperature went down – and he wasn't saying anything.

I grew increasingly worried. What if we didn't manage to get him help in time? He could die.

"All strapped in?" Riku called from the front.

"Wh – oh, um, yes," I stammered quickly. I picked at the harness strapping me to the seat of this car. Naminé had called it a "seat belt" and told me that it would keep me safe in the event that something happened to this car. I didn't want to dwell on it too much, but I guessed that it was probably bad.

"Okay, make sure the other kid is secure," he went on as the car made a strange rumbling noise. "We're busting out of here."

On cue, I was slammed against the back of my seat as the car crashed through the huge metal entryway.

* * *

_You know what, screw the author's note rule I mentioned in the prologue. I can't keep these out no matter what I try. Urgh. ._._

_Anyway, this took way longer than it should have for me to finish. I had this whole mission planned out, but I got stumped when I actually got to writing it – especially the ending. Ahem, hope it was cool to read, though! Especially Roxas's and Naminé's reunion bit!_

_Okay, the last thing I want to address is the mystery character at the beginning! I want you guys to take a couple guesses and, uh, guess who it is. XD Just curious as to what you guys might think. I wanna be surprised, you guys! He may take the place of Saïx in future chapters (I find this man unbearably boring to write, though I had fun with him this chapter) so yeah, __I'd like a comment on his character too, if it's not too much to ask. ^^__  
_

_Thanks for reading, everybody! I'll get to working on __The Boy With No Name__ now, so toodles! :3_


	6. Gathering

_Thank you so much for your infinite patience with me and my laziness. Anime really is good at distracting you. I'm sure some of you can relate. Not to mention, lots of personal problems (I've been dealing with that a lot recently) got in the way, so yeah._

_I honestly have mixed feelings about this chapter…I've been away from it so long I don't know if it's up to the same caliber as the previous chapters. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!_

_(I also apologize for any typos in advance. I edited this in a rush so I probably missed a couple things.)_

**Ch. 5: Gathering**

**Roxas**

I almost choked on the seat belt.

Of all the things to have happened while I was strapped in a giant metal box with wheels, the last thing I wanted was to have it crash through a metal door. For the love of all that was sane, what made this thing move? Riku just pushed on something with his foot and all hell broke loose!

"Agh!" I instinctively latched myself onto the first thing my hands could find – my unconscious friend – as the _car_, as they'd called it, regained its balance and started speeding through all the scattered soldiers, knocking them over and flipping them over the huge pane of glass and over the roof (I'm just going to call it a roof for convenience's sake).

At least, that's what I thought was happening, because my eyes were still shut tight and my arms were locked around this human space heater, so I couldn't see anything and could only feel the uncomfortable heat and hear a bunch of thuds and yells. Only once the chaos died down to an acceptable level did I dare to loosen my muscles.

"Roxas, are you and your friend okay back there?" I heard Naminé call from the front in a concerned voice.

"Y-yeah, we're fine," I managed to get out as I hurriedly separated my arms from my friend's body and tried to cool my skin somehow. "I think."

It was amazing that she was asking if _I_ was the one that was okay when she was the one sitting at the very front of this metal death machine. She was definitely something else.

"Riku, I think that was a bit much for them," she was saying as I straightened and opened my eyes. "Couldn't we have just opened the door? I thought we were sneaking them out!"

"Not unless you want us to get caught," I heard him say from her left. "A surprise escape is better than any other option right now. They're already in a crazed frenzy, so I'm taking advantage of that."

"And here I thought you were the rational one in our group," she retorted.

"That's abandoned when it's a race for survival. Don't you remember me teaching you that?"

"Yeah, but –"

"Um," I cut in nervously, hoping I wasn't being rude. "Sorry, but how long until my friend gets help?"

"Don't worry about that," Riku said as he swerved the car madly to the right. "It'll be a couple minutes – ten or fifteen, if we're lucky – until we get to our main hideout."

"Hideout?" I didn't know what that was, but it seemed pretty self-explanatory – a place where people could hide. But there was a doctor at that hideout? A doctor that could help my friend get better? "Where is it?"

"It's where I live," Naminé answered. "It's a pub that my parents run, called Seventh Heaven. It's an underground, so we don't have to worry about being found there."

They were just throwing unfamiliar terms at me left and right. My head was spinning, but I wasn't sure if it was because of the sudden torrent of strange information or the madly speeding car. In either case, I could infer from all that that it was a safe place to be.

"Well, it's gonna be more like an infirmary now than a pub," Riku grunted as he swerved into an alley. "Naminé just can't leave injured people behind. Talk about troublesome."

I rubbed my forehead. More weird terms…still, I couldn't see why wanting to help people who were hurt or sick was "troublesome". Naminé was probably the nicest person I've had the fortune to come across; how was helping people a bad thing?

She didn't lash back at him, to my surprise. Instead, she kept quiet for a while, maybe coming to terms with the fact that he was right. And I still didn't understand.

"Answer me from before, Riku," she said at last, her voice firm. "Someone else got hurt, didn't they? Who was it? Who got hurt on my account?"

This time it was Riku that was playing the quiet game. He didn't speak as the car continued to move. It was probably a couple minutes past until Riku finally deigned to say something.

"It's not just one person that's hurt, Naminé," he said, his voice grave. "Everyone got hurt."

"I don't care about the numbers!" she cried. "Just tell me who got hurt, Riku! You wouldn't be saying things like this if things were going to be okay!"

I was startled at this display of emotion. This was the first time I'd seen her lose her calm. These people must have been very important to her if she was acting like this…

"Well, like I said – if you're asking who's been hurt, it's everyone," Riku said matter-of-factly. "But if you're asking about who is in danger of biting the dust…it's your dad."

There was a small gasp from the front. I couldn't deny being startled as well. Her father was here, too? Was he involved in this? And if her father was here, what about her mother? Was she in trouble, too?

"How bad is it?" I heard Naminé plead from the front. "He's going to make it, right? He can't just die like that!"

"How bad…?" The car came to a screeching stop in front of some gray buildings. "Well, I can't really say. Though if we don't do something quick, he's going to bleed out."

Now _that_ was a term that I recognized. I've heard of so many other prisoners back at the fortress that had their limbs chopped off in horrifying ways – and not just chopped off by a machete or whatever. I'll spare the details; you really don't want to know. But to hear that Naminé's father had lost one…it was so strange to think about. Stuff like this happened outside the fortress, too? Were people just as messed up outside that hellhole?

I heard Naminé gasp in horror. "Y-you don't mean…is he still…?!"

"Relax, he's back home now," he said as he opened the door next to him. "Your mom brought him. A hospital can't be trusted in this situation, so we called a doctor who's a friend of ours."

"How can you expect me to relax about this?!" Naminé burst the side door open and ran down into the alley we stopped near. She was gone before Riku had even left the car.

"I-is it really that bad?" I asked nervously as Riku opened the door to my left and ushered me out. "I didn't know stuff like this happened outside…"

"Happens a lot, unfortunately, though usually not to that extent," he sighed, helping my friend onto my back. "It's just how it is here in Bellone."

"Bellone?"

"It's our country," he explained. "You really must've been isolated if you didn't even know that."

I felt a slight twist in my gut at those words. He may be friendly with Naminé, but he was definitely not as nice. It wasn't exactly my fault I'd been locked away for all those years; how was I supposed to know anything, exactly?

"Well…" I mumbled. "Yeah. They didn't exactly give any of us parole time."

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Sorry. That was insensitive."

"It's okay," I said abruptly. "Just take me where Naminé went. My friend needs help even more now!"

His body had gotten even warmer on the way to this place. It almost hurt touching him; it felt like his body was filled with hot coals (and believe me; they don't feel great). It was strange – weren't fevers supposed to weaken as time went on? Why was it getting worse? And it had escalated in such a short amount of time! This was almost surreal.

"Yeah, you're right," he said urgently. "He's barely breathing now; he'll die at this rate. We need to cool him down. Hurry, follow me."

He ran down the same alley that Naminé disappeared into, and I didn't hesitate to follow. It was dark in the alley, but thanks to some electric lights it was bright enough for us to see the way. It was a bit of tough going considering that I was carrying a whole other person, but I didn't let that slow me down. I couldn't let him die – not after all he did to keep me sane in that horrid place.

As I was running, though, I felt him twitch – it surprised me so much I almost stopped running. He was barely breathing, according to Riku, so I had no idea how he could still move. But it was still nothing compared to what happened next.

He let out a low moan. I could barely make it out, but I managed to hear him. Then he started to talk again like he did back in the cell.

"N-no…" he gasped through his short breaths. "Don't die…y-you can't…die on me…please…don't…break your…promise…S-Sora…"

That name again…so that was that S-soldier's name? It had to be him that my friend was talking about; it was the only answer that made sense. What promise did he make with this Sora person in the first place?

I almost couldn't feel it through the heat permeating from his body, but I noticed that he was trembling uncontrollably now, still muttering the same things over and over again. I could barely hear him anymore – even with my sharp hearing.

_Hang in there_, I thought to myself, trying to control my panic. _Work on getting yourself better before worrying about anyone else._

Pretty soon we came to a nondescript brown door at the end of the alley. Riku yanked it open without hesitation and waved me inside.

The interior wasn't anything special. The room was a decent size, and there were a couple wooden tables and stools scattered about the place. There was a long counter-like table that ran the length of the room, gray and worn. There was a huge brown shelf behind the table, lined with various kinds of bottles. But there wasn't any sign of any other person. In short, it actually looked pretty decrepit.

"Does she seriously live here?" I wondered out loud.

"No, this is just the bar," Riku answered as he dragged me to a battered door at the far left end of the room standing slightly ajar. "Their living quarters are in this direction."

So this was what a bar looked like. I didn't know that there were multiple definitions for it. A bar was apparently both a place and a thing. This shouldn't have been too difficult for me to grasp, but my brain was kind of drowning in all this new information. It was going to take me a bit to sort everything out in my head.

Riku pulled the door open and rushed me inside before closing the door behind him, and proceeded to continue dragging me. I wasn't really paying attention to my current surroundings thanks to that, but I could tell the walls were relatively light in comparison to that bar place. He led me through a doorway and into a larger room with some really big chairs and a table with weird pictures hanging on the walls in frames. There were other stuff in that room, too, but I really wasn't paying too much attention to the acute details.

The first thing I noticed about the room was that it was crowded. A bunch of people were either sitting in the chairs or kneeling on the ground, clustered around the largest chair that looked like it could seat three people. Naminé was one of the people surrounding the big chair. A girl that looked around fourteen with short black hair noticed us entering the room, and she immediately came over to us, her face lit up in relief.

"Riku!" she cried as she hurried over and gave him a quick hug. "Thank goodness you're okay! We were starting to be worried that you weren't going to make it back."

"Don't worry about me; I'm fine," Riku said as they pulled away to face each other. "I'm in peak condition compared to everyone else involved. How's your dad?"

Almost immediately I saw a shadow cross her pale features. I was starting to think that maybe that wasn't something that Riku should've asked. The minute those words had left his lips, her entire countenance had seemed to change – and not for the better.

"He…" She buried her face in his chest again, and her body was trembling slightly. "He…didn't make it…he's…"

I saw Riku's eyes widen in shock. "No way…Xion, you can't be serious –"

"Why would I be lying about this?!" she screamed suddenly, although her voice was muffled against Riku's vest. "He's dead! He's gone; he's not coming back! He bled out way before he even got here! I – I couldn't do anything…no one could do anything…I'm just – pathetic!" Her shouting dissolved into sobbing then, and she was unable to say more.

I felt sick to the bottom of my stomach. Her dad was dead, and it was because he was trying to help Naminé break me and my friend out. I don't know if this feeling was supposed to be guilt, but it might as well have been. A stranger had died for the sake of my escape, and I didn't even get the chance to give any sort of thanks to him. There was a lump in my throat, and it felt downright awful.

"I'm sorry…" I whispered hoarsely, prompting the two of them to look at me. "I'm really sorry…it's my fault…"

"Roxas, it couldn't have been your fault," Riku protested. "You were the one we were trying to free; you weren't involved in that way."

I appreciated the fact that he was being so nice to me, especially after being sort of cold towards me before, but it didn't do much to placate these feelings.

"I know; that's exactly it," I mumbled through the lump in my throat, staring down at my feet. "I don't even know who he is, and he died helping me get free. I can't exactly help that I feel like shit right now because of –"

"Roxas."

I started and snapped my head up to see Naminé standing in front of me. Her eyes were puffy and red, so she must've been crying really hard. I knew that for a fact, counting all the times I've done the same thing in my prison cell. To my surprise, though, she didn't look mad. Her expression was calm and composed, but it looked really fragile – she was doing her best to hold it together.

I tried to avoid breaking it as I answered her. "Naminé…"

"It's okay," she said, her voice trembling a bit thanks to the hoarseness. "He wouldn't want any of us to cry over him."

"But I…"

"He'd only tell us that it's a waste of time. For now, let's get your friend some help. He could really use it."

I'd almost forgotten about him yet again. Another wave of guilt crashed over me for not realizing how hard it was for her to hold herself back, and tried to get back to the matter at hand. "R-right. Sorry."

"Come on, let's take him to my room," she said as she strode down the hallway to our left without looking back. "It's the only other place available. Xion, call Dr. Ienzo and tell him to come here once he's done. He should be in the guest room where the soldier is. You should stay with Mom in the meantime, all right?"

A soldier?

The girl called Xion looked like she wanted to argue, but she apparently decided against it, because she just pursed her lips and walked back to the crowd of people surrounding the giant chair, and past them to another door. I hadn't noticed before, but there was a person lying on the length of the chair – a man with wild blond hair. There was a lot of blood around him – more than what was healthy.

So that was the one…

"Let's go, Roxas," I heard Riku say suddenly. He took my shoulder (gently this time) and led me down the dark hall. We turned a corner, passing a couple doors, until we reached the door at the end of the corridor. The door was already open. Riku led me inside, and closed the door once I had entered.

The room was relatively small. There was a huge bed with purple covers and a big white pillow at the upper right corner of the room, and a window right next to its head. Also next to the bed was a small table with a strange object on it – it looked like a jar with a small glowing umbrella sticking out of it that lit up the room slightly – and a small wooden stool. Right next to that was something that looked like a tiny, misshapen circle comprised of little beadlike objects around its edges. To the far left corner of the room was what I could only describe as a huge and intricate wooden box with doors on it. I wondered what it was, but now didn't seem like the appropriate time to ask.

Naminé herself was making the bed, lifting up the covers and folding them up carefully as we came in. She looked up as we approached her, and she managed a smile.

"Good timing," she said as she lifted her bundle of blankets and moved to the wooden box. "You can set him on the bed now. After that we should clean him up a bit before Ienzo gets here."

As Naminé opened one of the box's doors and set the blanket inside, Riku helped me get my friend off my back and comfortably onto the bed. He looked different now in the dim light of the room – he was practically drenched in his sweat, and his skin looked even sallower than before thanks to that. His chest was still moving up and down lightly, though, and it seemed pretty even – at least he wasn't hyperventilating anymore. He was still covered in dirt, bruises, and blood.

"Roxas, you stay here with him," Riku instructed me as he and Naminé made to leave the room. "We're going to get some cleans towels and water. Just stay put in case something happens while we're not here, okay? We'll let Ienzo know what to expect."

"R-right."

I moved to sit on the bedside stool as the two of them left the room, and carefully scrutinized his face for any minute changes. He still looked like he was sleeping without a care in the world, and it was so strange seeing him appear so defenseless. I guess people looked like this all the time whenever they were asleep.

As I was watching him, though, I still couldn't get over how odd it was that he and that S-class soldier looked so similar to each other. There was no doubt in my mind that they were blood-related, most likely brothers. And if they were, it was odd how different they seemed to be from each other despite being family. The soldier really hated me for some reason I was oblivious to, and his younger brother was more or less indifferent to who I was from what I could tell.

I wondered if I would ever discover the reason behind that disdain when he suddenly opened his eyes.

* * *

**Ryusei**

Oh God, this was the worst nightmare ever.

Ryusei had dreamed that three strange people had shoved his body into a wooden box and started kicking and throwing him around like a ball until he couldn't tell which way was up anymore. He'd felt queasy and sore and all kinds of uncomfortable, and then the box suddenly stopped moving and the top was torn open and –

A set of blue eyes was practically two inches from his face. It took Ryusei a minute to comprehend what he was seeing.

And then he promptly freaked out.

"What in the –" He reflexively sat up and pushed the face away as hard as he could, only to fall back down almost immediately. He was ridiculously exhausted…and strangely hot and damp. He tried raising his arm to look at it, but he couldn't budge it – he didn't have the strength. What precious energy he'd had left had been used up bolting upright and shoving that face away. When he tried moving his fingers, they felt slick and slippery. Was it his sweat? Why wasn't he on the ground anymore? And speaking of which, where the hell was he, anyway?

Yeesh…what was going on?

Suddenly, a voice rang out next to him: "Wow, you're awake! That's great!"

Perplexed, Ryusei turned his head to see who it was, and noticed a blond kid with blue eyes gazing at him in earnest – the same face that he'd just pushed away. And this voice sounded rather familiar…

"…Roxas?" he asked tentatively. His voice sounded low and throaty for some reason. "Is that you? How're you – what just – where –"

"It's a really long story," the latter admitted. "Lots happened, and…well, some people broke us out, and we're here now."

Ryusei felt his eyes widen in pure shock. Had he seriously heard this boy's words correctly? They had been broken out of those Godforsaken jail cells? How was that even possible? Who had it been? And he still didn't know where he was!

"Someone broke us out?!" he exclaimed in incredulity. "Who was it? What the hell even happened, exactly? I mean, what the hell happened to_ me? _Why am I feeling like crap right now? And where are we, anyway?"

Urgh, his head was hurting from all the questions crowding around in there. He had no idea which to ask first, and even whether he wanted to know the answers to a couple or not. But he was so rattled by all the blank spots in his memory of this incident that he barely took note of it. He didn't even notice how breathless he was after shouting out that torrent of questions.

"Um, well…" Roxas awkwardly ticked off his fingers one by one as he tried to keep track of the onslaught of questions. "Yeah, someone did. And I'm not exactly sure who, but she told me that she was my friend…and she's the same person who tried to break into the fortress before. And, um…you were passed out, but I don't know what happened to you to make that happen, exactly. Then you got a high fever on the way out of there, and…now we're here at her house. The people who helped us left a little while ago to get some towels and water to clean you up, and, uh…what did they call it…er, a doctor would come in soon to see you." A look of genuine relief graced Roxas's features as he went on. "We thought you were going to die. I'm glad you're still alive."

Okay…that was a lot to take in. Ryusei tried to get it all straight in his head, but a headache threatened to kick in if he dared to exert any more effort, so he abandoned the attempt. He instead decided to focus on the _now_.

"So…I got a fever after I passed out?" he asked for confirmation, "and a doctor is coming to treat me?"

"Uh…" Roxas looked slightly confused. "Yeah. I think so."

Something in the boy's countenance told Ryusei that maybe he didn't know what a doctor was, or what the phrase 'treat me' meant. Geez, how long had he been stuck in that prison if he didn't even know that, anyway?

And of course, all the things that Roxas had described to him…the reason he'd passed out wasn't really something that could be easily discussed with anyone. Especially this Outsider kid. Even so, he couldn't hide this condition from him forever. He had the strangest feeling that Roxas would find out regardless of his actions.

Speaking of which, he hadn't really noticed that there was a sharp, constant ache near his gut thanks to all that had happened, but now that he was thinking about this issue at all, he'd been subconsciously searching for any signs of lingering pain. He winced involuntarily, wishing he could move his hand over to that aching spot, but he still couldn't move.

Roxas noticed the grimace.

"You okay?" he asked him in a concerned tone, leaning over cautiously.

Ryusei gritted his teeth feebly at his gesture. "Don't…don't be so close to me." Being acquainted with Roxas was one thing, but being so close physically was a different matter altogether. That would take some getting used to.

Roxas flinched and immediately pulled back. "S-sorry," he mumbled guiltily.

Remorse shot through Ryusei's chest like a wayward lance at the expression on his face. This kid just kept making him feel awful over the weirdest things. It was like a ridiculously troublesome talent of his. He probably wasn't even aware of it given his nature, but even so – that didn't change the fact that this was annoying.

"Never mind," he sighed.

Roxas gave no reply, still staring down at the floor. Ryusei simply grunted and turned his attention to the chalklike ceiling.

They stayed like that in awkward silence for about another couple minutes, until they both heard the sound of a door opening and turned to see who it was. Three different people came in – a guy with shoulder-length silver hair, a slightly older man with bluish-gray hair, and a haggard-looking blond girl. All of them were carrying towels, and the girl was also handling a medium-sized plastic bowl.

"Hey, he's awake!" the girl exclaimed in surprise.

"Impressive for someone who'd been at death's door a couple minutes ago," the silver-haired one commented. "I guess stray puppies have a way of bouncing back."

"Who…who're you?" Ryusei asked warily. He wished he could inch back, but he still couldn't move a damn muscle.

"We're the ones who broke you out of jail," that same guy replied easily. "You're welcome."

"Watch it, Riku," the blonde warned him.

Ryusei ignored her. "Why'd you break us out?" he demanded, his voice on edge. "We don't even know who you are."

"True, and honestly we have no idea who you are, either," the guy called Riku replied. "We were only there for Roxas. You were just dragged along for the ride."

"Riku, be polite!" the blonde chided him again disparagingly. "You're being rude!" One would think that she was his mother, despite the fact that she appeared younger than him.

"I'm only telling it like it is, Naminé," Riku chuckled. "Besides, we weren't even trying to rescue this guy in the first place, right? You just brought him along with Roxas."

"Well, I wasn't planning on it, either!" she retorted heatedly. "Roxas wouldn't come with me unless I broke him out first! It's not like I really had a choice, you know!"

So those two were named Riku and Naminé, huh…the girl looked somewhat familiar, though he'd never laid eyes on the dude before. And from the sounds of it, they'd only rescued him for convenience's sake, like _Oh, there's another guy here? Might as well break him out, too. _Assholes. So their real aim had been freeing Roxas, the lone Outsider? What purpose would that serve them now that they'd accomplished that task? There was no way that the old man was going to let this slide by.

It also startled him to hear that Roxas had refused the possibility of escaping from that hell if they couldn't take him, too. That kid was either really nice, really stupid, or both. Of course he felt grateful and all, but…he had no idea how to react to that piece of information. This outcast of a guy had asked them to free him, too? Talk about weird.

While the two of them were bickering, the third person made a beeline toward the bed and knelt next to it, so that he was face to face with Ryusei, and – for a moment – the man did nothing but stare at his face, which was admittedly creeping him out.

"What's your deal?" he asked defensively. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

The man pulled away slightly in order to address him face to face. "My apologies," he said in a smooth voice. "It's just uncanny."

"What is?" Ryusei was on guard now in case the doctor (at least, that's what he assumed this guy was because he definitely looked the part) had caught onto his strange anomalies. No one could seriously tell that just by looking at him…could they?

"Oh, nothing much," the man said breezily as he stood up. "You just share a strange resemblance to my previous patient."

Ryusei just about had a coronary at those words. "Y-your _what?!_"

"I would go out on a limb here and guess that the two of you are related," the doctor went on with a curious expression, "but who am I to make such assumptions, hm?"

By this point, both Riku and Naminé had stopped arguing, set the stuff they were carrying down next to the bed, and were listening into the conversation with interest. Roxas had gotten up and retreated into one corner of the room with a nervous expression on his face, probably uncomfortable with the number of people around him.

But Ryusei could care less about any of that at the moment.

"He was your last patient?!" he exclaimed. "You mean – you're the one that –"

"Well, it seems as if my hunch was correct," the doctor observed. "So, do you know that man? What exactly is he to you?"

"He –" Ryusei began to say, but he held his tongue. He couldn't just blurt out the fact that he was Sora's brother…if Sora was even the person this man was actually talking about. But who else could share a resemblance to him other than his brother? And if this doctor was here in this house, then…was it possible that…?

His throat was parched, but he managed to ask, "Is…is he here?"

"Why, yes. He is currently resting in another room as of now, but he is in this building."

A strong wave of emotion came over Ryusei when he heard those words. His heart clenched painfully at the knowledge – he was here. Sora was so _close_. In the wake of that blinding agony and this accursed weakness of his entire body, he'd thought that his brother was nothing short of dead. To learn that the man standing at his bedside at this moment had treated him earlier in this very building was immense relief.

He probably should've been surprised at the amount of relief that news brought him, considering that Sora had been acting like a selfish, spiteful ass for as long as he could remember, but then again…they were family, as much as he hated to admit sometimes.

"Thank God…" Ryusei felt his eyes sting, and he felt the tears slip down his cheeks even in spite of the perspiration clinging to his skin. "I thought he was dead…he's still alive…thank God…"

"So you _are_ related to that soldier I found," Naminé marveled as she drew closer to the bed herself. "You must be the reason he's Branded."

"You…you saved him?" he asked as he faced the young blonde, his voice hoarser than ever. "You brought him here? Where did you find him?"

"At the eastern bank of the Border River. I happened to find him while I was out for some fresh air. It was lucky I found him when I did; he probably would've died from blood loss otherwise." A shadow crossed Naminé's face as she recalled that moment. "I don't want to think about what would've happened to him if I hadn't seen him there. He was really badly hurt. It was…awful."

Ryusei didn't doubt her words for even a moment. The pain that Sora had endured at that time…it was definitely torture. The people back at the fortress never really had reason to touch him – of course; save a couple instances when Sora had flat-out refused to cooperate and they'd brought Ryusei out to blackmail him. If anything, he felt sorrier for Roxas than for himself. That poor guy didn't know anything of what was happening to him, and those people had tormented him in more ways than they probably even realized. Ryusei only looked worse because of these stupid phantom pains.

But…what exactly had happened to his brother? Nothing of that caliber had ever come down upon either of them before today. If anything, Sora was an accomplished combat expert; he'd never let himself get hurt that easily before. _Something_ strange was definitely up.

"Yeah…" he muttered under his breath. "It must've been."

If Naminé caught onto the change in his countenance, she didn't show it. "So, I guess I should introduce myself properly. My name is Naminé, this is Dr. Ienzo" – she gestured to the older man next to her – "and that rude one over there is Riku," she added as she looked to the silver-haired boy. "You'll have to excuse him; he's a pretty blunt person."

"No problem," he assured her. "I've dealt with that attitude a lot myself."

"If that's the case, then you two should get along well," she said with a smile. "So…do you mind me asking what your name is?"

In other instances, he definitely would have had a problem with that, since he hated nosy people. In this case, though, he supposed that it was probably warranted. These people had saved both him and Roxas, after all, and somehow come across his brother as well. It would be rude of him to go nameless to his rescuers; that would be ungrateful.

The people standing by his bed were watching him expectantly. Even Roxas was staring over at him wearing a curious expression.

"It's Ryusei," he said after a moment of silence. "Thanks for your help."

* * *

**Naminé**

Time seemed to stop for a really long time.

Today (well, technically yesterday as it was way past midnight now) was definitely the craziest and most trial-laden I'd ever had to live through. So many things happened in such a short span of time. My mind was still reeling at everything that had happened. We had actually managed to pull off the mission, but…the cost had been so high.

_Dad…_

Everything in me just wanted to crumple into a sad heap and bawl my eyes out. Too much had happened too quickly, with little time for me to process it all – I could barely even process that my dad wouldn't be around anymore. It was just a snowballing bundle of nerves rolling around in my chest, not letting me focus on anything one at a time.

It was much easier said than done, but I needed to pull myself together. If there was one thing my dad had hated more than anything else, it was moping. Moping would never help better a situation; you only dwell on it longer than you need to and you end up getting worse. You had to pick yourself off the ground and do something about the reason behind the despair or else you'd never get anywhere in life.

And if I did cry and brood over this, how would that make my mom or my sister feel? I would just be acting selfish and not consider how shattered the both of them must feel, because they loved him just as much as I did.

I had to try and move on, for the sake of everyone. Especially Roxas, because that was who he had died for in order to be saved.

It was really late, but no one was sleeping – save for our tagalong escapee Ryusei. His fever had really taken a lot out of him – even I could tell that. He'd fallen asleep a little while after learning about the soldier who was in the guest room. It was almost as if that was the news he'd been waiting to hear before passing out.

And I knew by now that Ryusei's ailment wasn't an ordinary one. Dr. Ienzo had taken both me and Riku aside to tell us something important one the boy had fallen asleep – Ryusei had nothing wrong with him physically save for the same malnutrition and injuries. His fever had basically been a freak incident – it had popped up with absolutely no reason whatsoever. It was either a side-effect of being imprisoned, or Ryusei was hiding something from us. Ienzo had treated him just fine, but had picked up that his patient had been on guard through the entire procedure.

Whatever had happened, if Ryusei knew anything about it, he wasn't going to tell us anytime soon.

Everyone else was just sitting around our living space, not saying much. Dr. Ienzo had taken my father's body in order to properly cement his passing without letting the Kingdom know the circumstances under which he'd died. Riku had gone out into the living room in order to console my mother and sister. Roxas and I were alone in my room, with Ryusei snoring lightly in the background.

Roxas was sitting on the stool next to the bed, his gaze fixated on the sleeping form of his friend. His expression was almost protective – ready to jump into action at a moment's notice in case something happened to him again. I was saddened by how wild they looked – like the eyes of a cornered animal. Roxas had such an air of protectiveness around him that I was afraid to approach him in the possible event of him jumping on me without warning. Malnourished as he appeared, he was definitely still stronger than me physically, and he could easily overwhelm me if I wasn't careful. I stood off to the side, staring out the window into the blackness of the night in alternative, and we remained in each other's company in awkward silence.

I don't how long we stayed that way, but when I eventually looked back at him, he'd fallen asleep, his body leaning on the side of the bed. His tense face had finally relaxed.

I stifled a giggle at the sight. I'd never imagined that I'd even think about laughing at all today, but his sleeping face looked so peaceful and innocent, like a child. There was also a soft smile on his otherwise haggard face, like he was having a good dream.

I moved to my wardrobe in the corner and pulled out one of my spare blankets before covering Roxas with it. As I did so, I couldn't ignore the lump in my throat.

Just seeing him here, safe and sound, was enough to put me at ease…at least until disaster struck again.

* * *

**Vanitas**

Vanitas was starting to wish that he hadn't teamed up with that uptight fool. He had standards, damn it; why did he have to stoop so low and rely on a façade to get things done? Saïx just had to go and toss this ridiculous responsibility at him; it complicated things more than it should have.

With every step he took away from that bastard's office, he fought the desire to turn right back around and choke the overseer to death with his bare hands. He couldn't blow it, not after he'd come so far and sacrificed so much. All his losses would be meaningless. At the end of the corridor, he paused and braced his hand against the right wall.

_A retrieval mission, huh…_

Truth be told, he didn't really care whether that Outsider kid was brought back to the fortress or not. They already had plenty of super-soldiers, and they hadn't learned anything about how he was the only survivor of the genocide that had annihilated his kind from the moment they'd brought him here. It was ultimately pointless, but they insisted that he go and bring him back. Were they that terrified of him going into enemy hands? If they were so biased against the race, why not just kill the kid? It made no sense to him.

Vanitas fingered the frayed piece of cloth on the right side of his face absent-mindedly. Well, as pointless as he thought the purpose of this mission was, he had to keep up his image. He had to play his part, and have his men track down and infiltrate the hideout of the ones that had stormed their place that very night. It would put the fool Saïx at ease if he did so, and it would only make things much easier for Vanitas in the long run.

_Then again_, he thought to himself as he made his way to the steps leading down to the ground floor, _I never had the intention of succeeding all the way through in the first place._

* * *

For once, Axel was completely disagreeable. He flat-out refused to come along for the mission to track down their prized prisoner. This presented a bit of a problem, since this pyro soldier was meant to be the most important member of the group and was the only one who refused to join.

"I don't see the point in going after that kid in the first place," the redheaded man was saying as he lounged on his bunk. "We've already got plenty of benefits from him, right?"

Although Vanitas couldn't help but secretly agree, he couldn't take no for an answer. His goal hung in the balance and he wasn't about to let Axel tip it.

"Listen, you know what happens when we go against the word of the Boss, don't you?" he asked. "I know you're not the type of guy who would let that happen to him. And besides, this isn't really a picnic for me, either."

Axel tightened his emerald eyes ever so slightly, and Vanitas was positive now that he had the pyro's attention. It didn't matter who it was; not one soldier in this fortress liked the mention of _that_.

"That was low, you bastard," the soldier muttered with a hateful glare.

"I can go lower if you don't come along," Vanitas countered with a threatening cast in his tone. "Get ready to move out by daybreak, or I swear I'll have your head on a spike."

Vanitas strode out of the barrack before Axel could protest. He'd finally put his crew together. Now in several hours, they'd move out and scatter in search of their hideout with the clues and eyewitness accounts they got from the soldiers who'd been on the ground floor at the time of the invasion.

He prayed with all that he had that they would fail.

* * *

_I love how horribly I'm keeping up with my own timeline of events._

_Anyway, you guys finally know the identity of the mystery character! (Like it wasn't obvious already, haha XD) I'm gonna have a lot of fun with this guy. He may be an antagonist, but Goddamn – he may become the most complex character in this entire story. Hmm, should he take Saïx's place? I'm really liking him, and this is his first appearance as a narrator. Let me know, because I honestly don't know if I can handle both. ^^; Sir Stoic is just really tough for me to write._

_Also, like I mentioned earlier, thanks so much for your infinite patience with me, you guys. I really hope you enjoyed this comeback chapter of mine, though I feel like it could've been way better if I hadn't lost my writing mojo for over a month. Ergh…well, yeah._

_It's great to be back! Hope to see you guys again real soon!_


End file.
